The Sea In Her Eyes
by avemariamontenegro
Summary: With the Lannisters seizing power, Tanith Folder is forced to prove her family's loyalty by marrying a knight under their allegiance. Feeling exploited, isolated and even suspecting her own family of being against her, nothing can prepare her for the fate she meets, as well as her opportunity for adventure beyond the Capital... I OWN NOTHING EXCEPT MY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1 - Tanith_

As she gazed at the view before her, the hilltops seemed to roll together into one vast swirl of mud brown and lush green in Tanith Folder's eyes. She enjoyed spending time in her room with the large window which practically covered half the wall. Her room was the highest point of Folder Castle, but it still did not surpass the Eyrie, which Tanith could see in the distance. The Vale might not be colourful, but it was enchanting in its own way. _Home_.

Tanith's daydreams were interrupted by her mother's intrusion. Ulna Folder was never one for knocking, especially when she had something on her mind ready to slip from her tongue.

"Tanith, my sweet girl," her mother approached her but halted about three feet from the ledge where Tanith was perched. "I have very terrible news. It is King Robert. He has been killed."

Tanith gasped, and rose to meet her mother's height. "How…"

"Hunting accident. Killed by his own kill." Ulna began to sob. "Oh the sweet but horrible irony!"

Tanith had only met the king a handful of times, but she liked him. Robert and her father, the late Lord Harran Folder, were friends from adolescence, both training as knights together. It was her father's bravery in Robert's Rebellion that earned him – and House Folder – the honour of Protector of the Vale.

"What happens now?" Tanith asked. Her mother pressed a crumpled parchment into her hand. Tanith unfurled the paper and it read:

 _House Folder_

 _It is with great sorrow that the Crown announces the death of King Robert Baratheon, First of his Name, killed by wounds sustained in a hunting accident. It is also necessary at this time for the Crown to make some changes to the Seven Kingdoms, concerning your great house._

 _The Crown no longer sees fit that House Folder be Protectors of the Vale, especially as the Protector himself, Harran of House Folder, has passed on. Unfortunately this was a loose end that King Robert, may he rest in peace, failed to tie. The Crown wish you well, but will no longer require your title and service._

 _The Crown appreciates the degree of independence that the Vale has enjoyed for many years. However, under the succession of King Joffrey, First of His Name, it is required that your house swear fealty to House Lannister in a legitimate form, or risk treason._

 _Her Grace, Cersei Lannister_

Tanith let the paper fall to the floor. Robert was probably not even buried yet – not even _cold_ yet. The last paragraph sent a shiver through her. Whatever the Lannisters were up to, they certainly didn't play around.

"Mother…" she could barely speak. "What do we… I mean, what will we do?"

"The letter said, Cersei Lannister said, if we swear allegiance to them via a _legitimate form_." Tanith looked at her mother. She did not really understand where this discussion was leading, or perhaps she didn't want to understand.

"Tanith, you are my only daughter," Ulna's voice boomed across the small room. "I love you, and I hope you understand that we need to make a decision that ultimately concerns you. You are no longer a child. You are becoming a woman, a beautiful one at that. We must prepare for the possibility that we may need to use that…"

"Mother." Tanith held a hand to signal for her mother to stop. She closed her eyes, and as they opened again after several moments, a single tear fell to the stone floor below them. "Please don't," she whimpered.

"Marriage is the best way to secure an alliance," Ulna said. "I do not like the way the Lannisters seem to be interfering, but this letter is an outright threat. We have to protect ourselves."

"But who will I marry?" Tanith found her words spilling out in frantic yelps. She did not anticipate this discussion happening at all, even though her eighteenth name-day was approaching. Part of her knew it would come eventually, but a stronger part of her buried that fact.

"It doesn't have to be a Lannister," her mother reassured, placing a hand awkwardly on her daughter's shoulder. "It just has to be someone under their allegiance already."

Tanith slumped onto the floor, leaning against her bed. She couldn't face this. Not now. She wasn't ready to be taken away from her home to marry a stranger and live with him, grow his babies and be confined to whatever life he had sculpted for them.

Ulna always had an insatiable appetite for power, very unlike Tanith's father, Lord Harran. He preferred his quieter life in the few years before his death, especially since his experiences during the Rebellion had left him disillusioned with fighting and bloodshed.

" _The power of the pen and the word will always triumph over the clash of swords."_ He used to say. Tanith adored her father, and treasured every piece of advice he granted her.

Her brother Warren was more like their mother. He cared more for Harran's tales of bloodshed and brutality during the Rebellion years, and longed to be as gallant a knight as his father one day. Warren certainly had the look of a knight of fairy tales – his golden hair shone as it floppily framed his soft, almost pretty face, and his blue eyes pierced through the slit in his favourite helmet, which he often wore. Two years older than his sister, Warren Folder was tall, athletic and injected a room with an air of relaxed confidence. He was vain, and knew of his own strengths more than anyone else. All the ladies of the Vale vied for his attention, but Ulna was reluctant to marry him to just anyone.

"What about Warren?" Tanith found herself blurting. Ulna, who had taken to awkwardly hovering and surveying some of her daughter's possessions on her vanity table, looked up.

"Warren could marry a lady," Tanith said. She sat herself down at the vanity and began brushing her hair. She always had to find something to do with her hands when she was agitated. "Hells, mother, he could marry the Queen's daughter! The girl would probably take one look at him and swoon."

Ulna shook her head, and placed a hand coolly on her daughter's shoulder, looking at her through the mirror. "Warren's time will come, but for now, it is best that you be betrothed. You know how these things work, my dear. Daughters marry younger than sons."

Tanith tried to resist a scowl. She knew what her mother really meant. She wanted to get the best possible bride for her golden-haired aspiring knight of a son. As for her daughter, Ulna Folder would settle for the first brute in lion armour to keep Cersei sweet.

Ulna bent down, clasped Tanith's chin with her hand and pulled her face to line with hers. "You're a beauty, Tanith. We will find a marvellous suitor for you." Realising that her meagre compliments would not budge her daughter, she stood straight and headed for the door. "I know this is a great deal to take in just now, so I will let you sleep. I shall reply to this raven in the morrow, and we will set about making travel plans as soon as we can. I imagine Warren will want to accompany us to the capital. He could use some training from the Kingsguards."

Tanith said nothing. Her mother closed the door softly. Tanith turned back to her reflection, and stared for a few moments. She wanted to take herself in for possibly the last time, before a life of formality, duty, southern customs and forced happiness would consume everything that made her Tanith Folder.


	2. Chapter 2

_Tanith_

Tanith dreamt peacefully of a pleasant spring day at Folder Castle she enjoyed years before. She was strolling with her father in the Purple Garden, a stone's throw away from the castle grounds, so called for its beautiful wild heather bushes which bloomed during warmer months. Warren was practising swordplay with a guard by the large cherry blossom tree in the corner of the garden. Ulna had been cheering him on from the large stone balcony overlooking the garden, in between stitches of her embroidery. Harran chuckled to himself, and said aloud, "That mother of yours is as untameable as these heather bushes, don't you forget it!"

Tanith, then thirteen, laughed in response. "Warren wants to be just like you, papa."

Harran sighed. "He enjoys the idea of fighting. I never did. I would like to say I hope he never experiences it."

"He won't surely. The realm is at peace now, isn't it?" Tanith and her father came to the edge of the garden, and looked out over the valley below them. Flags emblazoned with the House Folder sigil, the dragonfly, loomed over their heads. He nodded.

"Of course, my girl. Robert is king; the last Targaryens are exiled children. No harm will come to the three of you while the king and I can help it." He took both of his daughter's hands in his own, and squeezed them tight. "I never want you to be in danger, Tanith, but that is not the real world. Everyone faces a foe in their life. I will not always be able to protect you, so you must be brave. Some people still call us usurpers. They could be as far as Essos, but they are out there."

Tanith glanced at her father's eyes, briefly aware of a glimmer of fear.

"I will be okay, papa. As you say, they are in Essos."

Harran nodded, but still looked solemn. "Sometimes, my dear, our enemies are closer than we anticipate."

Tanith was disturbed from her dream by a brisk knock. Shae, her new lady's maid, appeared and began preparing her bath. It took Tanith a moment to remember that she was in the Red Keep now, and had been since late last night. Her chambers were next to her brother's, but their mother was sleeping practically at the other end of the Keep. Tanith wondered why.

"It's time to bathe and dress, my lady," Shae chirped. She had an exotic look with dark hair, olive skin and almost black eyes. Her accent led Tanith to conclude that she was from across the Narrow Sea. Tanith liked her: they were close in age and if circumstances had been different, they may have been friends.

"Today you will meet the king, so you must be ready soon," Shae said. When Tanith and her family arrived in King's Landing last night, they were instructed to go straight to their chambers and meet the court at first light. Tanith felt a quiver in her stomach as she let Shae wash her hair and braid it into the courtly fashion. Tanith grimaced.

"Must I have my hair that way?" she protested. "I do not think it suits me." She was not entirely lying. Tanith had a small, round face with obvious dimples, which she felt the southern hairstyle over-accentuated. She preferred to style her hair with two simple braids, letting the rest flow down to her waist. It was more suitable for her, but also more _her_.

"The queen may request that you wear it like this, my lady," Shae said, but the girl left Tanith's hair alone nevertheless. Tanith combed it into her preferred style, and she dressed in her favourite gown. It was lilac, with a free-flowing mixture of lilac and pale yellow skirts, embroidered with small purple flowers around the collar. Not too fancy, but not dull. Tanith considered kohl or rouge for her face, but decided to leave it. Her lips were already pink through their plumpness, and her green eyes were slightly clouded by grey which made them sparkle in light. She did not want to look too overdone for her first appearance in the court. For a finishing touch, she slid her favourite possession, a hair clasp with a pretty bejewelled dragonfly, into her braid.

She met Warren in the corridor, and a guard escorted them to the throne room. They did not speak, feeling awkward by the lingering presence of the guard, Ser Meryn Trant, who had showed them to their rooms the night before. Her hair clasp fell from her head, she bent down to retrieve it, and Trant gawped at her as she did so. She did not like the way he looked at her, like a dog waiting for a slab of meat to be thrown his way.

They met their mother outside the throne room, and she forced a smile. None of them could even pretend it was a leisurely visit to the capital. Ulna took her daughter's hand, squeezed it sympathetically, and whispered, "It will be alright."

Tanith smiled weakly at her mother, trying to imagine a decent outcome of this meeting.

 _Sandor_

"They will be completely under Cersei Lannister's thumb now."

"I've heard that Folder woman will do anything to stay relevant. Thinks because her husband fought with the king that she's just as venerable as him. No one cares anymore."

Sandor Clegane tried to ignore the swirls of gossip darting between the other Kingsguards, but blotting the voice of Meryn Trant was futile. The men had been training all morning, but were gathered in the courtyard, waiting to be summoned to the throne room for the meeting between the Crown and the Folders.

Sandor had heard the rumours about the family before they arrived in the capital. True to his nickname, he could sniff out Ulna Folder like a hound. She was desperate, even if it meant using her own children to manipulate her position. She clearly revelled in the glory her husband brought the family, and was worried about losing that more than anything else. He had scoffed when he heard that she was bringing her children to King's Landing. The boy would be training with him and the other guards, and the girl would be marrying a Lannister cocksucker. Sandor frankly did not know who to feel sorrier for.

"Have they chosen her husband yet?" one of the men asked. Sandor looked up, genuinely curious at who the poor lass would have to lay beneath every night for the rest of her life.

Trant shook his head. "If they have, I don't know about it. She's a real piece though. Saw her last night. Caught a good glimpse." The men jeered.

"She's almost eighteen I hear, isn't she a bit old for you?" Sandor quipped.

"I saw her too, last night when she arrived," another guard said. "Face of an angel. If they chose me, I wouldn't be complaining."

"It will be someone highborn, no?" another said.

Trant shrugged. "The last time the Folders did anything important was the Rebellion. Don't think the Queen would be really considerate of her choice. Maybe they will pick one of us!" The men whooped and laughed, and Sandor huffed. Trant looked over at him.

"Don't look so gloomy, dog," he said. "For all we know, _you_ could be the one to break that seal!"

"I've got more pressing things to worry about than some uppity lass from the Vale," Sandor found himself saying. "Girl won't know what's hit her, coming here."

Three quarters of an hour later, Sandor was in the throne room. The room was bustling, all the members of the court draped up either side of the long aisle leading to the Iron Throne. Joffrey was slumped on it, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. Cersei loomed behind her son, and his betrothed, Sansa Stark, lurked further back, near Sandor and Trant. The girl's father had just been attacked by the king's uncle, so the little bird constantly looked bleary-eyed and frightened.

Sandor wondered why the meeting with the Folders was consuming so much of the Crown's efforts at this time. He knew the Lannisters were hell-bent on the demise of the Starks, especially since Robert's death had paved the way for them. Why they were dealing with a much smaller house in this way was lost on him.

The doors opened, and the three figures at the end of the hall marched forward. _Looks as if they're marching to the slaughterhouse_ , Sandor thought to himself. They almost were. They paused about fifty feet from the throne, and the older woman marched forward.

"Welcome, Lady Folder," Joffrey snarled. "I trust you had a pleasant journey."

"Yes, your grace," the woman stammered. "I must thank you for your hospitality at this time. My son, daughter and I are so grateful. The Red Keep is such a beautiful-"

 _Stop babbling woman_ , Sandor thought. _You'll annoy him even more_.

Joffrey smiled falsely. "You are most welcome, Lady Folder. Now, you must excuse me for wishing to carry this formality so swiftly, but I am very busy. I understand you wish to create an alliance with House Lannister via your daughter, is that correct?"

The woman nodded. "Yes, your grace. Tanith's eighteenth name-day is steadily approaching, and she is ready to be married."

Sandor tried to garner a closer look at the girl behind her mother, but she was still far away and her head was slightly bowed. He liked that, surprisingly, she had not come looking like a made-up southern doll. She looked different to the courtly ladies, with her subtle dress and hair down. _She looks nice_ , he found himself thinking.

"Very well." Joffrey interrupted Sandor's thoughts. "The counsel and I will select an appropriate suitor soon. Girl, come forward."

The girl stood alert and began walking, briskly at first, then slowing down. She walked past her mother, and came to the stairs just below the throne.  
"A little closer," Joffrey ordered. The girl took three steps upwards, and looked up at the king with apprehensive eyes.

That was when Sandor noticed her eyes.

They were so green. A muted sea green, with clouds of grey lurking in them. They twinkled as she looked up, the light from the high windows shining in them. Sandor initially let out a small gasp, which luckily only the Stark girl noticed. He cleared his throat and regained his rigid composure. He considered that the Folder girl would be pretty, but he was not expecting this… vision.

Sandor fumed silently as Joffrey told the girl to slowly turn around. He did not like her being subjected to an inspection by the little cunt king. _It's not her fault she is thrust into this position._

"Well, you are quite a beauty. Or at least, have the potential to be." The king sneered. "Girl, you will attend lessons with my lady here," he signalled to the Stark girl. "And _you_ ," he gestured to the young man standing further back. "Will work with the Hound and his dogs. See if they can make you a better fighter than your father." Sandor saw the girl wince at the mention of her father's name. Joffrey really was a cunt.

He continued, "If you need anything, my guard dog will attend to you," he gestured to Sandor, and the three Folders looked at him at once. He saw shock flash across the faces of the woman and the young man. _Used to it_ , he thought. The disfigured, knotted flesh on one side of his face had left most people trembling or repulsed by his appearance.

The girl looked at him too. As their eyes met, Sandor examined her face for a little longer than he should have, and found her not looking at him with fright, or shock, or even discomfort. She looked at him with curiosity. Her eyes flickered again, grey dancing with green. Her skin was paler than that of the southern ladies, like a perfect, smooth swirl of milk and honey. Her face was marked with two tiny dimples on either cheek. Her brunette hair with glimmers of auburn flowed past either side of her face, framing it exquisitely. _Beautiful_.

Before he could catch himself, Sandor felt a tingle in his lips and a small smile formed. He quickly fixed himself, but to his wonder, he saw the girl's plump little lips form into a mirrored action. She had returned his accidental token of friendliness.

He was shaken from his reverie with the girl by the bustling of the court being dismissed. The girl turned away from him quickly and walked back down the aisle with her family.

"Told you she was a piece," Trant remarked as they walked back to their chambers. Sandor ignored him, but considered the comment a complete understatement.


	3. Chapter 3

_Tanith_

Tanith had been in the Red Keep for a month. Thirty-one days of being taught how to dress, walk, speak, smile, and to maintain a constant graceful expression even if she was feeling low. Which was almost all of the time.

Her suitor had not been chosen yet. Granted, the Crown were distracted by bigger issues. Lord Stark's fate was still in the balance. His youngest daughter was missing, having fled the Keep before the Folders arrived. Cersei had ordered that Tanith spend her leisure time by herself, as she did not want her conversing with Sansa. She saw very little of Warren, only meeting at dinner as he was training all day. He told jovial tales of his progress, bragging that he was ready for a war. Ulna usually joined them, but she had dined with Cersei on a few occasions. Tanith would ask her what they discussed. Her mother would reply with the same vague response about deliberating suitors.

Tanith noticed that her mother was rapidly morphing into a Southern lady. She wore more rouge and kohl, dressed more extravagantly and even began speaking in the same accent as the courtly women she was now acquainted with. Tanith could not remember the last time her mother wore one of her own dresses. Her new demeanour prevailed even without the presence of Lannister lapdogs, such as in their dining room. Tanith looked forward to dinner, as she could abandon her new etiquette, wipe the muck from her face and let her false smile collapse amongst the only people she still trusted – for the most part.

Warren was different too. He was always a little full of himself, but Tanith noticed his arrogant streak more than ever these days. He was increasingly self-indulgent, and if Tanith tried to contribute, she was interrupted.

"Trant says I'll be a better swordsman than Jaime Lannister by my next name-day," Warren coughed, his mouth full. He slumped back on his chair, holding his goblet in the air. "More wine!" he barked at a servant hovering nearby.

"Warren, I think he is teasing you," Tanith replied, irked at the way her brother's current demeanour reminded her of the king. "And you needn't speak in that way. Papa always told us to speak to people the way we would like to be spoken-"

"The man knows what he is talking about. Sword-fighting is not something I expect women to understand." Her brother took a loud slurp from his refilled goblet.

"Your brother is correct, Tanith," Ulna chimed in. "It's wonderful to hear that you are making such progress, Warren. Shall you be jousting before the feast tomorrow?"

"Sadly not. The Hound usually does, but his brother is coming. A bit of family history there, if my sources are to be believed."

"Beastly name for a beastly man," Ulna shuddered. "I see him lurking around in the shadows of these halls. I for one would not like to be left alone with him."

"What is this joust for, anyway?" Tanith implored, ignoring her mother's jab at the Kingsguard.

Ulna pursed her lips. "Well, the queen tells me it is more of a _symbolic_ celebration. After all, the lion has triumphed over the wolf."

Tanith felt sick. Her mother sounded like a Lannister trying to worm her way onto Cersei's lap.

Warren interjected again. "That is why the Hound's brother, the Mountain, is coming. That fool had the audacity to try and strip him of his titles, so the Queen ordered him to come just to show Stark that his actions have meant nothing."

Tanith decided she had had enough of picking her food and pretending to enjoy her family's company. They barely acknowledged her departure. She kept her head down to avoid anyone passing her, and began thinking of her father. Her mother and brother would never behave that way around him. _I hate this place, and what it has done to them_ , she thought.

As she fought back tears, she crashed into something.

"Shit!" She looked up, and there he was. The one they called the Hound. She had walked straight into his armoured chest.

He looked down at her with a miffed, awkward expression. They both stood there, unaware of how to disband the situation. Eventually he cleared his throat and barked, "Better be more careful, my lady."

"Please accept my apology, ser."

"I'm no Ser," he said.

"What should I call you, then? We have not been acquainted yet."

"Hound."

"Do you like that name?"

He looked down at the floor, placing his enormous hands on his belt. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Doesn't matter what I like. I'm just a guard dog."

"What is your name?" Tanith folded her arms. She became determined not to resort to treating him like the others did. She would be damned to the seven hells if she were to fall away from herself in a matter of weeks away from home.

He paused, and his eyes met hers. "Clegane. Sandor Clegane."

Her mouth formed a satisfied smile. "Please excuse my clumsiness, Clegane. I do hope our paths cross again soon, although hopefully not quite as closely."

"My lady," he grunted. As he turned to leave, Tanith thought she saw a shadow of a smile flicker across his haggard face.

 _Sandor_

Sandor revised in his head his meeting with the Folder girl the previous night, and wondered why she had been so pleasant with him. He had seen her on a handful of occasions over the past few weeks. She always had the same subdued expression, and when she thought she was alone, she looked sad.

Sandor hated himself for it, but he had sort of been spying on her. He had seen her at the seafront the day after the meeting, as he had gone there too to get some air after just half a day of training with her airhead brother. There was a little cluster of rocks below the lowest balcony, out of sight of the towering Keep and right next to the water. She sat on the flattest rock, tip her head back, let the wind whip her hair and the sea spray cool her face. Her face adopted the most serene expression. Sandor enjoyed seeing her there whenever he could, and she had not noticed him there on any of the occasions.

Sandor adjusted his armour, reminding himself again of the way she had smashed into him and swore. He chuckled, surprised that she had spat the word so recklessly when it could have been Cersei fucking Lannister she had bumped into. He was now standing behind Joffrey, who was perched on the edge of his seat and taunting the jousters below them.

"Come on, I want to see BLOOD!" the little shit jeered. Sandor had lost count of how many jousts there had been. It had been a long day, and he regretted deciding not to take part. Joffrey was making him crave a kill.

A sickening crunch punctured the air, followed by gasps and cheers. The last contender was dragged away, and the triumphant man bowed. The crowd clapped, and Joffrey stood.

"Now," he bellowed, wine goblet in his hand. "It is my pleasure to introduce the fiercest warrior in all the Seven Kingdoms, the Mountain that Rides!"

The crowd jeered and howled as Sandor's brother appeared, thundering past them in a gigantic flurry of steel. He came to a halt beneath the royal party, and his contender trembled as he hoisted himself onto his horse to face the brute before him. Joffrey held up his hand to silence the crowd, and swaggered across to the Stark girl, seated near him.

"Let us dedicate this joust to my lady Sansa," he declared. "She, and you all, must look upon this as an act of triumph over her treasonous father!" The crowd erupted, and he pointed to Gregor's contender. Sandor watched Meryn Trant walk over to the man, produce a bloody, tattered wolf-skin and hurl it across the neck of his horse. Sandor's eyes flickered to the Stark girl, who sat whimpering in her seat. When Joffrey looked back at her, he sported a sickening smile, and the little bird was forced to correct her face and return it. She did a weak job.

Sandor suddenly remembered that he was now, in a sense, reunited with his brother for the first time since Robert's name-day. Sandor remembered it vividly: while the fluffy-haired pillow-biter, Loras Tyrell, was celebrating his win, Gregor flew into a rage and began attacking him with his sword. Sandor had intervened, and before the brothers plummeted into an inevitable bloodbath, the king had angrily stopped them.

Sandor met Gregor's eyes, still visible through his helmet. He quickly looked down, still unable to look at his brother for more than a few accidental seconds. They would never be amicable.

 _Tanith_

"See the family resemblance between the Cleganes, my lady?" Tanith's daydream was interrupted by the man sitting alongside her. He had introduced himself as Petyr Baelish, just a few days after the first meeting with the court. He was a member of the King's Counsel, and therefore, instrumental in the selection of her husband. Ulna and Warren were seated on the other side of her, and she could see in their eyes that this entire joust had thrilled them to no end.

Tanith, meanwhile, had been using Baelish's conversation as a distraction from the violence. She had heard of his reputation for deception, and although her mother reassured her that he probably had nothing to do with Lord Stark's imprisonment, Tanith was not so sure.

Tanith gazed at the Mountain in astonishment. She had thought that no one could be bigger than Clegane, who surpassed her by well over a foot when she had encountered him the night before.

"I never knew that Clegane had a brother," she remarked.

"They do not act like brothers, my lady," Baelish whispered. "In fact, Gregor is the reason the Hound's face is horribly disfigured." Tanith gasped, and turned to look at Baelish wide-eyed, hoping for him to reveal he was joking.

"How did he…?"

"They were both only boys. Gregor caught him playing with one of his toys, and the next moment, he had smashed his brother's face into the coals."

Tanith craned her neck slightly to see Sandor, who was about ten feet from her with the royal party. She saw his eyes staring straight ahead, past his brother, and could almost see the horrible memory playing in his pupils.

"Why did the king want Ser Gregor to come back? Surely he did not come all this way just to take part in one joust?"

Baelish shrugged. "I would not question the king's decisions, my lady. If anyone should hear you, there may be dead dragonflies decorating the next jouster's horse."

The threat sent an uncomfortable shiver through her body. She was no fool. She knew her family were in the purgatory of the royal family's interests. One small slip and Tanith struggled to think what could happen.

Tanith was startled by a scream, and cheers. Ulna stood and clapped, followed by her brother. Tanith looked around her and noticed all of the spectators standing and applauding what she had missed. The horse, decapitated. The wolf-skin had fallen as a result and was splayed across the ground, blood and fur making an unsavoury mix. The contender was lying near the horse, drenched in blood, the sword of the Mountain embedded through him. Gregor took the handle and sunk it into the man's torso a little deeper. The man yelped his last breath, quivered a little, and then he was still. Gregor hauled the sword cleanly from the man and thrust it into the air, shouting and egging on the crowd, who had fallen in lust with his triumph.

Joffrey slurped some more wine and threw his cup into the air, mirroring his victor with the sword. Cersei sat gracefully, clapping with a mere smirk on her face. Sansa smiled weakly, trying not to look at the man or the blood or the wolf-skin representing her family's demise at the hands of a Lannister loyal. _They have all the control now_ , Tanith thought.

She looked behind them at Sandor, who had taken to looking at his own feet. In that moment she saw the little boy in him, feeling hurt and deserted by his own family. She wanted to climb into his arms and hold him, and they would hold each other until this feeling they both shared disappeared. One month ago, she was with her family in their home surrounded by their servants, their guards, their sigil. Now the same people were cheering beside her for the brutal end of a respected family and an intense development in what was now an all-out war.

Lastly, she met the eyes of Ser Gregor, who appeared to be walking towards her, her family and Baelish. He halted about three feet from her, and the crowd faded. He removed his helmet and grinned at her, exposing his crooked, blood-spattered smile and his narrow, dark eyes. Then, the brute bent down on one knee and tossed something at her, which landed on her lap. Unable to look down, Tanith kept her gaze fixed on the Mountain, until he rose again, turned and disappeared behind a tent further back.

"Tanith." Her brother's voice came into focus beside her. She snapped out of her fixation and looked at him. He and her mother looked gravely at her, and Warren signalled to her lap. She looked down.

A flower crown.

 **Author's note: Hi everyone, first timer here. I appreciate the two favourites I've got so far – so much! This is my longest chapter so far, and they will probably be this length from now on. I struggled to find my feet with the story, and am still finding them, but I hope you are enjoying and would appreciate any/all feedback so please review!**

 **Thank you xx**


	4. Chapter 4

_Tanith_

Ulna entered the room, swiftly closing the door behind her. Tanith and Warren leapt up in unison. "Anything?" Warren inquired. She shook her head. Warren and Tanith had been in her chambers for what felt like hours, pacing, sitting, stewing in silence. Tanith sat by her vanity, staring into the fire in the corner of her room. The crown of flowers, now beginning to wilt, was sitting on the table. The yellow and green petals had begun to turn crisp, and brown in colour. It had been glaring at Tanith since she had received it… from _him_.

"Well, if they do not come in the next five minutes, I shall go to them!" Warren declared.

"It is best to let them talk, Warren. They are the royal counsel." Ulna remarked, trying to calm her son with a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Mother, we cannot let Tanith marry that… _monster_! I do not care what the counsel says, it is NOT happening. The things I have heard…" he trailed off as Ulna leapt over to him. She was constantly on edge these days, bounding around like a cat sprayed by water.  
"Warren, please calm down," she said, trying to hush him. "We do not want to hear this."

Tanith stood, and spoke for the first time: "Enough of this. Warren, tell me what you know about the Mountain."

Ulna barged in. "Tanith, the rumours of guards in their practise sessions hardly constitutes fact!"

"Oh mother, will you STOP?" Tanith erupted at her mother in a way she had never before. "It is because of you that we are in this position. _You_ wanted us to uproot our lives and pledge our loyalty. _You_ wanted me married off to some Lannister knight, and now one of them has promised himself to me, so I have a right to know what in the seven hells is going on!"

Ulna shut up, and her face crumpled as she reached out to touch her daughter, who moved away. "Tanith, I did not want any of this. We had to do this or the Lannisters would… I don't even know anymore!" She began wailing, and collapsed on the bed. Warren and Tanith exchanged a look, and Tanith almost saw her father in her brother's eyes. She never thought he resembled Harran before, but perhaps their need for him now more than ever was leading her to see him wherever she could. She knew what Harran would say. _You cannot fall apart._

"I'm sorry, mother," she laid a light touch on her shoulder. "We've been here for so long and we do not even know what's happening. They're keeping us distracted with my lessons and Warren's training. And now, the most fearsome knight in the Seven Kingdoms has suddenly arrived and presented himself to me. It just doesn't make sense."

Warren nodded. "They're up to something. I have been a fool to ignore it. I've been so embroiled in my training…" He sat on a chair, his head in his hands. Tanith watched as he ran his fingers through his blond curls, which had grown even lighter in the southern sun. Her eyes pricked with tears, and part of her felt glad that Warren was coming to his senses a little, and realising that perhaps life in the capital was not such a treat.

Tanith asked him again. "What did you hear about the Mountain?"

Warren's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Well, I mean, this is hearsay, but-"

Three loud knocks pierced the room, followed by Ulna's frail little voice uttering "Come in". Sandor Clegane appeared. He looked at the back of the room, refusing eye contact with any of them. Tanith watched the reflection of the fire dancing on the scarred side of his face and in his eyes, creating a glow which she was unsure if she found comforting or threatening.

"Queen wants to see you, Lady Tanith." He said.

"Only Tanith?" Ulna asked.

"Yes."

Tanith had been exhausted for days, letting her worries about the joust and what might come next consume her and keep her from sleeping, eating and smiling. But her body felt surprisingly light as she stood and strode over to Clegane. She had had enough of sitting pretty in this prison. She was going to see the Queen.

 _Sandor_

Sandor did his best not to look at or talk to her as they walked. He wanted to touch her, an affectionate grab of the shoulder. Actually, if he was thinking about what he really wanted to do, it was to snatch her up and steal her away from the Keep, from the fucking Lannisters, her fucking useless family and every other rotten cunt in this city.

"Clegane," she whispered. _Fuck. Please don't speak to me about this._ Sandor had taken the bulk of his rage about the joust out on training and sword practice. He nearly took Trant's arm off that morning. _Should've done_ , he thought. He still struggled to believe it. His brother. The crown of flowers. Joffrey and Cersei smirking with delight at the entire thing as if it were a fucking jester show.

"Do you know what is going to happen?"

"'Fraid not."

"I cannot marry him, Sandor." She took his arm and they both came to standstill in the corridor. Sandor glanced around them, seeing no one, but still rejected her touch.

"We need to keep going." She refused to budge. She grabbed his forearm and guided them into an alcove by the staircase. It was tight, and they were inches apart from each other.  
"I will not marry him, and I will not go in there to be told that I will."

Sandor looked into her eyes, infuriated by the reminder of their green-grey swirl and how they still glinted even in the dim candlelight. He wanted to touch her hair and feel its softness in his coarse hands. He watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed uncontrollably, and found himself thinking about what was beneath her dress.

"You can't argue with the queen," he said, snapping out of his fantasy. "If she wants you to marry my brother, nothing you can do."

"Nothing?"

Sandor sighed. "We can't keep her waiting, girl." He grabbed her firmly by the arms and manoeuvred himself around her little body, emerging from the alcove. "Come." He said. The girl fell silent and she brushed past him. Sandor's chest tightened as he watched her stride away from him as quickly as she could.

 _Tanith_

Tanith knew she should have knocked before entering, but she didn't. Cersei was stood at her window, a glass of wine in her hand. She did not appear angry by Tanith's entrance; in fact, she looked amused.

"Hello, little dove," she purred, gesturing for Tanith to sit. Tanith did so, and the Queen sauntered over to sit opposite her. She knocked back the last sip of wine in her goblet, and placed it on the table. "Would you care for some?"

"No thank you, your grace," she said firmly. "I understand you wanted to see me?"

"Yes," Cersei said, the smile fading from her face. "You probably know why."

Tanith nodded.

"Gregor Clegane has presented to you a crown of flowers, a symbol of a promise of marriage that you and I both know is customary to keep. The king is very pleased with this gesture, as it has been difficult trying to find an appropriate suitor for someone of your… level."

Tanith knew the jibe was supposed to hurt, that she was not important enough to marry a Lannister. She did not care.

"Why has the king not spoken to me about this?" Tanith asked.  
"Careful now, Lady Tanith. Remember who you are addressing." A low, silky voice wafted from a curtain near the queen's bedchambers, and Tanith turned to find Jaime Lannister lurking near them. He wandered over to the desk and stood behind his sister.

"I beg your pardon, your grace," Tanith said, her eyes still fixed on Jaime. She had only seem him at royal court or tourneys a couple of times, but never this closely. He was a fine looking man, and something about his eyes made her feel at ease. She struggled to imagine that the rumours about him and Cersei were true, but she knew that to even consider them would land her in the same position as Lord Stark.

"The king wanted me to deal with this, a woman to another woman," Cersei replied.

"Of course, your grace," Tanith said. "But, your grace, may I say something?"

Cersei raised her eyebrows, but nodded, curious.

"I appreciate what you have done for me, and my family, giving us this chance to ally with you. We do not wish any harm, or ill, to the crown. But I…" Tanith felt her voice cracking, and willed herself to continue and to sound as sure of herself as she could. "I cannot marry Ser Gregor. I am sure his intentions are honourable, but I cannot marry him."

The Lannister twins looked at her. Cersei frowned slightly, a look of annoyance that Tanith was standing up to her. Jaime looked transfixed, almost impressed.

"And why can you not marry Ser Gregor?" the queen hissed.

Tanith gulped. She had not prepared for this. She had not prepared for any of it. She had to act.

"Because, I… I have already been promised to another!" she blurted. "Sandor Clegane asked for my hand and I accepted."

"The Hound asked for your hand?" Jaime asked, a bewildered and slightly amused expression on his face. Cersei hushed him, and said, "Why did you not tell us about this little… arrangement?"

"He… I…" Tanith struggled for words, and could feel her face growing scarlet. Cersei's face told her that she didn't believe her. "He knew that you, the counsel, erm, were choosing my suitor, and he offered me his hand as a favour. A favour to you, erm, so you didn't have to keep on choosing and could focus on other priorities."

Jaime raised his eyebrows. _They need to believe me_ , Tanith thought. But then what? Would she actually marry Sandor? She did not love him – not in that way – but he was a far better option than the Mountain. Maybe she could lie her way out of marrying Gregor, and then deal with Sandor later.

"Very well," Cersei said calmly. "We shall discuss this again soon. You may retire to your chambers, and you are excused from lessons for the next week."

Tanith stood, curtseyed and headed for the door.

"Oh, one more thing, little dove."

Tanith turned. "Your grace?"

Cersei poured herself a fresh cup of wine, and took a small sip. Then she looked at Tanith and said, "You are no girl, you are a woman. You will marry before your name-day. That is certain."

The statement ran down Tanith's spine uncomfortably, making her shiver. She left the chambers and stood outside the door. Her eyes began to sting with tears, but she blinked them away. She wandered to the window at her left, and looked out onto the sea. The moonlight was dancing on the waves, which hugged the beach and rocked the little merchant boats tied to the docks. The jagged rocks cut away at the perfect scene, jutting out directly below her. She looked out, and saw the horizon dipped in white, imagining a boat taking her beyond that horizon. She wanted to get so far away that she would see nothing but sea…

She heard a jolt behind her, and she ducked into an alcove as the hushed voices of the Lannister twins made their way into the corridor. Tanith knelt, steadying her breathing. She craned her neck to hear what they were saying.

"Perhaps he did ask her." _Jaime_. "I have seen the way he looks at her sometimes, let's throw the dog a bone."

A scoff. "I will speak to him tomorrow, see what he knows. I am keeping them well apart."

"Would it be so bad to let her marry him?" Jaime retorted. The whispers were becoming hisses.

"Yes. It has to be The Mountain." Cersei bit. Tanith tried to hear the rest of her sentence but it became faded as they headed in the other direction. She waited a few minutes before emerging and returning to her chambers.

By the time she returned, Warren and Ulna were gone. It was very late, and Tanith yanked off her dress, stripping to her underdress. She slid her dragonfly clasp out of her hair. She ran a hand through her hair, separating the waves and flopped down onto her bed. She lay awake, toying with her clasp and stroking the creature's silver and blue wings. Only one thought occurred to her. _I need to find out about The Mountain._


	5. Chapter 5

_Sandor_

One of the guards had Warren Folder on the ground, his sword inches from the boy's neck.  
"You're not paying attention!" Sandor barked, spectating with the others a few metres away. "You didn't miss that last week, what's gotten into ye?!" He clapped his enormous hands together, and the guard helped the boy up. Warren ran a hand through his hair and swept the ashy dust from his tunic. He scowled at Sandor as he remarked that, as he has said a thousand times, he should be wearing his armour.

"It's too hot today," the boy sulked, sauntering over to the fountain to quench his thirst. Sandor tutted, "It might be too hot when we're fighting a war across the Narrow Sea, in the middle of the desert, fighting those Dothrak cunts! You need to wear yer armour, boy!"

"Are you mad, Hound? It'll be the Starks we're fighting, now that Lord Stark is… well, now he's dead!" Warren rolled his eyes, but Sandor noticed a tinge of fear flash across his youthful face. He looked a little like his sister, pretty rather than handsome with soft dimples and a little nose. But his eyes were blue, like his mother's. _Hers are green_.

The execution of Ned Stark had filtered through the Keep in a matter of hours, and Sandor resented having been there. He flinched in memory at the sight of Sansa, frantically scrambling in his arms as she begged for her father's life. He had also been there later when the little cunt king had made her look at her father's head on the spike, and stopped her almost pushing him from the bridge they stood on. _Should've let her_ , he thought angrily.

Sandor marched across to the lad, knocked the waterskin from his poised hand and hissed into his face. "Listen here, I didn't sign up for this. When I was told we'd be joined by an aspiring _warrior of the Vale_ , I expected a helluva lot more than this, than _you_! Ye think because your father was a great knight that you've been born one – you're even stupider than I thought you were!"

Warren shot Sandor an icy glare, but Sandor didn't falter. Warren blinked after a few moments, and the stare between them was broken. Sandor trudged back over to the gathering of guards, who had clearly been enjoying the drama unfolding before them, and collected his sword. "We're done for today," he grunted.

"Maybe I am not my father… yet." Warren spat. "But I'd rather be a Folder than a Clegane."

Sandor let out a small chuckle, amused that the boy had chosen a rather obvious insult. "Join the club," he retorted, turning to face Warren, whose hand was now hovering over his sword in its tunic. "Nothing appealing about being a Clegane."

"Answer me this, dog," Warren hissed. "Did you know, this entire time, that your brother was going to propose to my sister?" He turned to face the other men behind Sandor, who were watching silently. "Were you all telling me those stories of the Mountain to piss on me and my family?"

Sandor sighed. Despite his arrogance, the boy's turmoil over his sister's situation was not his fault. Sandor half resented him: even this little prick gave more of a shit about his sibling than his own did.

Sandor gave a nod to the others, and they swiftly gathered their weapons and left the courtyard. Sandor walked over to the boy, studying him to make sure he wasn't about to do something stupid, like pull his sword on a man twice his size. _Nah he won't_ , he assured himself. _Still a coward like his mother_. Instead, he softened, letting his hands fall by his sides and his head droop slightly. Childlike, he began scuffing his boots on the ash and focusing on a stone by his left foot.

"Listen to me, lad, I'm only gonna say this once. Too many lions prowling about," their eyes darted to their surroundings, and when confident that they were alone, Sandor said, "Believe me when I say this: I had no idea what my brother was planning." He leaned in closer to him, almost having to lower his knees to reach his height. "My brother's been fighting Tywin Lannister's wars in the Riverlands and fuck knows where else since Robert died. Way I see it, he'd have no idea who your family was unless someone made a point of telling him."

Warren's mouth parted slightly, and gazed up at him, "What do you…" his voice quietened. "Do you think the Lannisters told him to come and present himself to her?"

Sandor nodded. "Your sister couldn't say no, and the Crown couldn't accept responsibility."

"But why the Mountain? If the stories are true, Clegane – if he really did kill his first two wives – why would they do that to Tanith?"

Sandor shook his head. "I've been guarding these lions for a long time, and they always weave these webs… you're never sure where they will stretch to. Their plans are never obvious. That's how they get away with so fucking much. And since Robert's out of the way, they're doing whatever they want."

Sandor turned to leave, but Warren grabbed his arm desperately. "Please," he whispered. "You have to help us. You are the stepping stone between my family and the Lannisters. They will never reveal to us their true intentions. I can see you resent and despise them, and I have seen the way you look at my sister…"

Sandor huffed, and shook Warren from his arm. "Enough, I need to get back." Warren would not budge. _He's a stubborn one too_ , Sandor thought. He wanted to kick himself. He had always thought he was doing a smooth job of keeping his fantasies about Tanith Folder from expressing on his face. If her dumb brother had noticed, who else had?

"Please!" the boy begged, this time louder and more pleading. "Please, I know you care for her. If you find out anything, tell us. My mother is too afraid to ask questions. She'd rather ignore it and pretend everything is fine." They were both alarmed by the sound of chains clinking. Maester Pycelle was walking by in the cloisters ahead. The boy removed himself from Sandor's forearm, and headed across the courtyard, disappearing into the cloisters. Sandor immediately headed to the baths, viciously scrubbing away the sweat and dirt from his arms and legs. When he was clean enough, he slumped back into the water, letting only his head float on the surface. As he lay there, he began to contemplate what that had unfolded in the courtyard. Perhaps he did hate the Lannisters with enough passion to actually betray them. Perhaps he cared enough for the Folder girl to do the very same thing...

Later that evening, he escorted Joffrey to the dining hall as usual. Cersei, Jaime and the Stark girl were already seated, as usual. Sandor's chest tightened under his metal breastplate as his eyes, scanning the room, fell on his brother. Gregor was sitting at the end of the table, his statuesque figure practically consuming the grand ornate table, which looked miniscule in comparison. Next to Gregor, he saw a maroon dress, auburn and chocolate cascading curls, a shimmering blue and silver dragonfly, and a fair but pale face branded with a look of utter terror.

 _Tanith_

She had been expecting a visit from Cersei all morning, so Tanith had woken naturally before dawn, dressed and bathed herself and immediately dismissed Shae without a word. She had been pacing her bedroom, her stomach too unsettled to eat and too nervous to go and speak to her family.

Afternoon came, and Tanith decided she had better go and eat before she fainted. She opened her door and started along the corridor, to be met with Cersei. The queen looked stony-faced and had her hands clasped together tightly at her breast. She was walking alone, which alarmed Tanith even more.

"I was on my way to speak with you," Cersei said. "We shall return to your chambers." Cersei gestured behind them and Tanith reluctantly turned around, walking slightly in front. Tanith could feel Cersei's icy expression prising through the back of her head. She did not know if it was just her fear, of if it was the coldest day in the capital since she had arrived.

Cersei perched on the chair by Tanith's vanity, facing the trunk at the end of Tanith's bed, where she sat. There was a silence, during which Tanith awkwardly cleared her throat and adjusted her dress.

After a few more eternal moments, Tanith uttered, "W-what can I do for you, your grace?"

"I have spoken to Sandor Clegane about… the matter we discussed last night," she said proudly, looking into Tanith's eyes, almost reading the lies in the green and grey swirls. "I know you have lied to me."

"I-"

"You will shut up while I am talking to you." The statement was vicious, but Cersei spoke in a calm purr which terrified Tanith even more. "He has vehemently denied making any such promise to you. In fact, he told me that he was aware that his brother wished to court you and was insulted at your suggestion that he would deceive Ser Gregor."

Tanith's stomach sank. Her bowels felt heavy, and she was suddenly glad she had no food in her gut to throw up. She was scared, but she knew that Sandor had nothing to do with this.

Cersei continued, "You are well aware that lying to me, and therefore your king, as well as trying to slither your way out of this proposal, is punishable by treason. Arranging a marriage was the very reason we brought you here, and you agreed to accept a knight chosen or approved by us. I have informed the king of this deviance, and he is insulted."

"Your grace, I am sorry," a tear fell from Tanith's eyes as she tried to blink them away. "It was not my intention to dishonour anyone, least of all the king!" She was suddenly aware of Ned Stark, chained in a dungeon not two moons ago. Now his head was on a spike. "Please, allow me to make amends for this wrongdoing."

"Oh, you will." Cersei smirked. "You are to marry Ser Gregor in six days. You are to dine with the royal family and your betrothed tonight."

Tanith gulped. "As you please, your grace." _She had to find her mother and Warren. They had to flee King's Landing, one way or another._

"That is not all," the queen continued. She took Tanith's hair clasp from the vanity, rose, and stood in the middle of the room. She played with the dragonfly, stroking its wings and balancing it between her hands.

"Your grace?"

"You have already demonstrated that we cannot trust you," she said, eyes still fixed on the dragonfly. "And aside from this malice, your family are strangers in the capital with no attachments to the Lannisters – or Baratheons anymore. You are in close ties with the Arryns of the Vale, who are loyal to the Starks on account of family links. You feel nothing for us. It would be easy for you to say you will marry whomever we choose, and then to not go through with it…" Cersei paused, and stopped studying the clasp. She handed it to Tanith, who hesitated before taking it back. As she reached out her arm, the queen grabbed it and hauled Tanith up and toward her. Their faces were inches apart.

"Which is why we're hanging onto your mother and brother, for now," she hissed into Tanith's face. "You will marry Ser Gregor. You will wear that yellow cloak of dogs and say the words in front of the king and the gods. You will bleed and hurt when he takes you on your wedding night. You will force out his children and raise them. You will cry as you bid them goodbye when they leave for battle in _lion_ armour. You will remain in our debts for as long as you live."

Tanith could not find the air or the will to speak. She choked on nothing. Terror mounted in her gut. Cersei loosened the grip on her arm, and stood back.

"What have you done with my family?" Tanith gasped, the words falling out as she tried to steady her breathing.

"You will not see them again for a while," Cersei replied. "You will marry, and after that, we will send your brother with our army to fight against Robb Stark's rebellion in the North. Meanwhile, your mother will go back to the Vale and encourage the mad Arryn widow to send us her men. Your home will no longer be a middle ground, Lady Tanith."

Cersei turned to leave, and Tanith found her voice. "Why would they do that for you?"  
The queen sported a sick smile as she said, "Because, little dove, if they refuse, something truly terrible may happen to you. A delicate thing like you," Cersei clasped a cold hand around Tanith's waist. "A man of Ser Gregor's… stature would need to be careful. _Very_ careful."

As she left, she said, "You will join us at sundown. Not a moment later."

 **AN: Hope people are enjoying, think I'm getting there with the plot… Please view and review if you can, I appreciate feedback and advice!**

 **P.S. thank you for your review GrimmaulDee you little star! The pair of them are a real handful, huh? As if Tanith doesn't have enough to deal with!**


	6. Chapter 6

_Tanith_

Tanith immediately took her gaze from Sandor as his eyes met hers. She was not angry with him; she knew Cersei had tried to manipulate the only attempt at a friendship she had formed during her stay in the Red Keep. She did not, however, want the queen to notice any signals they may be sending each other, inadvertent or otherwise.

The Mountain's entire body quivered with a giant force next to her, his bulging bicep just inches from her head. Had the situation been different, Tanith may have laughed at how comical his size made the table, and the other guests, look. On her other side was Tyrion Lannister, the dwarf. Tanith had not spoken to him much, but he seemed kinder than the others. He definitely joked more.

"I am glad you are between us, my lady, otherwise this would look more like a gathering of circus performers!" Tyrion remarked, prompting a polite smile from Tanith. Cersei glared at him, and he took a gulp of wine. "Not the place for jokes, it seems." He quipped quietly, taking another sip.

Jaime sat opposite Tanith, Joffrey at the head of the table with Sandor lurking behind him. Cersei was at the other end, and Sansa Stark sat across from Tyrion. Tanith noticed she had gotten thinner, despite always being dainty. Tanith looked at the girl sympathetically and knew that despite sitting at this table of lions, her family locked away somewhere, it could always be worse.

Another man sat opposite Gregor, and Tanith vaguely knew him as Bronn, a sellsword who had become rather acquainted with the Lannister brothers. Cersei did not seem to care for him as much, which led Tanith to assume that one of the others had insisted upon his presence. He was cheeky, Tanith thought, remarking on Gregor's size out loud as he sat to dinner, but his breeziness and confidence made her feel slightly more at ease.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Bronn said, pretending to tip an invisible hat at Tanith. Tanith smiled. "Thank you, ser."

"Not a Ser, I'm afraid," he tutted, tucking into a chicken leg. "Maybe someday."

"You sit directly next to a Ser, Lady Tanith," Jaime said awkwardly, Cersei watching him. "The finest knight of the Westerlands, bar myself of course." The joke was not met with laughter, not even a polite giggle. Sansa looked at her food, concentrating hard on the untouched plate. Joffrey looked bored, softly tilting his goblet in his hand and watching the wine swirl around. Bronn noisily chomped down his food, and Cersei's eyes were working furiously, scanning Tanith and Gregor.

Tanith, you are to report to me in the morrow and we shall set about making you a dress. I presume it will be white, yes?"

Tyrion's cutlery clanked on the table, and Tanith looked up to see Sandor cringing. She felt ashamed to be discussing her innocence in front of all of these people. She nodded and forced a smile.

"I want a straight answer, girl. You are a virgin, yes?"

Tyrion interrupted. "Cersei, please."

"It's a simple question."

"Not one that will be discussed at the table! Tanith is a lady of House Folder, show her some respect."

"She will be the lady of Clegane's Keep." Joffrey joined in. "Answer my mother."

"No one has touched me, your grace." Tanith said dully. She had become so tired of the games the lions were playing, she could feel herself slipping into a catatonic state. She knew deep down that she should not give up, but a stronger part of her now was picturing Ulna and Warren in chains, covered in grime, with stale bread and water to keep them. It seemed hopeless.

Gregor had barely acknowledged Tanith since the dinner began. He had ravenously munched on his dinner, having two or three more helpings and more wine poured by the terrified servants behind him. Aside from a few grunts, he had barely said a word. Sandor had been looking at Tanith for most of the evening, she also noticed. Sometimes he looked as if he longed for her; most of the time he looked worried for her.

The meal had finished, and a dull chatter echoed through the large hall. Tanith responded to Tyrion's conversation when necessary, but she felt a million miles away. She noticed Sansa, trying not to weep as Joffrey hissed at her, taunted her, and generally humiliated her in front of the others. Cersei at first looked amused by her son's behaviour, but as the evening grew on, she joined the rest of the guests in looking dismayed, wishing they were anywhere else. She clapped her hands, and said, "My dear son, shall we have a song to end the evening?"

Joffrey nodded. "We shall have my lady Sansa sing to us. She would love to, wouldn't she?" He beckoned to Sansa, who sat cowering in her chair. "I-if it please your grace," she uttered in a whisper.

"That's enough," Tyrion warned.

"Quiet, uncle." Joffrey retorted, adopting the tone of an insolent child.  
"Now, Joffrey, she is still very overwhelmed by the death of her father," Cersei said lowly. "Perhaps the more immediate bride-to-be will sing us a song?"

Tanith blinked dumbly, then realised that was her. A bride-to-be.

"Me, your grace?"  
"No need for songs," Gregor suddenly said, and Tanith practically leapt in her seat at the sound of his voice. "I'm going to the alehouse."

"You must hear your lady sing, Ser Gregor, before you go," the queen pressed, laying her lion's paw on his enormous hand. "I'm sure it would give us all great joy."

"Without modesty, your grace, I am not a talented singer," Tanith urged. She looked at Sansa again, who was now looking at her. The whole table was.

"I would like to hear Rains of Castamere," Cersei replied, ignoring Tanith.

"I said, that's enough Cersei," Tyrion repeated.

"Rains of Castamere it will be." Joffrey declared. "Hound! Fetch the band!" Behind them, Sandor grunted and trudged off toward the back of the hall, emerging moments later with a trio of musicians. Tanith stood slowly, her legs almost buckling. This was the song of House Lannister, the ultimate symbol of the family's bold bravery and prowess.

And she did not know the words.

The music began, sounding more ominous than the upbeat version Tanith heard at the tourney before Gregor had tossed that crown at her. She opened her mouth, trying to recall anything.

"And who are you, the proud lord said…" she trailed off. She cleared her throat. "That I must bow so low…" Her voice cracked and she felt tears welling in her eyes as she realised that was it. She was not going to remember anymore. She refused to look at any of them, staring straight ahead at a lion gargoyle by the stone wall, its mouth open in a delicious growl. She knew Cersei would be glaring at her.

"Must we let the girl endure anymore?" Tyrion interjected, and the fiddles and lute died. "She is under too much pressure, we have forced her into this."

"You do not know the words, Lady Tanith?" Cersei asked, almost politely with a sinister smile. "Or can you not bring yourself to utter them?"

"I- I am sorry. I…"

"Perhaps I should escort the lady to her chambers if she is feeling unwell?" Jaime offered, throwing Tanith a small smile. She appreciated it.

"Enough of this!" Joffrey interrupted. "All of you! My mother wanted to hear Rains of Castamere and you have failed. Mountain," he turned to Gregor, who had almost fallen asleep from the amount of food and wine he had consumed. "I trust you would never let a blunder as humiliating and offensive as this happen once you are married."

"No, your grace," his voice boomed. "Was pathetic." He looked at Tanith properly for the first time since the tourney, and she felt his stare cut through her and tear out what was left of her that was still good and happy.

"I agree," the king chuckled. "Discipline her."

Tanith saw Tyrion motion to Cersei, as if to stop what was going on, but the queen did not react. She watched Tanith stonily.

The Mountain rose from his chair, a shudder radiating across the table and the pounding of his feet on the stone floor as he strode over to Tanith. He hovered over her for a few moments, studying her. Tanith could do nothing but stare back at him.

"Go on," the king sneered. "Your betrothed has made a fool of you."

Gregor seized Tanith's arms with his hands, squeezing her between him. As she felt the muscles in her arms become sore with his force, she let out a yelp. "Please, st-"

She was shut up by an emphatic smack to the face, and The Mountain loosened his grip on her, letting her fall to the ground with a light thud. Tanith clutched her face, furiously blinking tears away. She heard Cersei announcing her retirement for the evening, and she looked up to see her leave with Jaime. Sansa reluctantly followed the king, as did Sandor. Gregor left too, presumably for the alehouse. Tyrion and Bronn remained, and they helped her to her feet.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Tyrion asked her. She nodded.

"Course she ain't alright, she's just been smacked by the fucking Mountain!" Bronn retorted. Tyrion shot him an annoyed look.

"I'll be okay," Tanith said. "I should have been prepared for the song."

"You do not deserve this," Tyrion said. "My lady, I do not know what my sister is up to, but I promise you, I will talk to her."

Tanith looked at him solemnly. "With respect, Lord Tyrion, how will that help?"

"She's got a point, my lord," Bronn said. "Her family are chained to a fucking dragon skull and yer sister's picking her fucking wedding dress."

"I will speak to her. You have done nothing to earn this kind of cruelty."

"Did Sansa?" Tanith said matter-of-factly, and Tyrion looked at her forlornly. They both knew. It did not matter what anyone did. If Tanith had sung the song perfectly, she would probably still have been punched by her betrothed in front of the royal family. She was their pawn now. Nothing was going to change.

 _Sandor_

After being relieved of his duties for the evening, his feet took him in the direction of her chambers. He knew he should leave her, but he didn't fucking care who saw him go there. He had to see her.

He knocked, and a soft voice whimpered, "Come in." Sandor entered to find the girl dabbing at her face, cleaning the blood, and wincing as she did. She saw Sandor through the mirror at her vanity case.

"I was not expecting you," she said. "Does the queen need me again?"

Sandor cleared his throat. "No… I just came to see how you were."

Tanith looked at him blankly, trying to figure him out. He knew this was a bad idea. She probably thought he was involved in all this shit.

"That's kind of you, Clegane. Although what can I say?" she held up the damp rag she was using to clean her face, and tossed it on the vanity before sitting on her bed. Sandor shuffled near her, until he was standing over her.

"I am sorry for… fuck, I'm not good at this." He coughed again. Tanith shook her head.

"It is alright. I appreciate that you came to see me," she sniffled. She looked up at him. "Do you know if my family are alright?"

"I haven't seen them, but they're being fed. Queen wants them to stay strong… for their journeys."

Tanith nodded. "Yes, the queen told me about that. Do you know when she plans to send them?"

"Think she wants them gone before your wedding now."

Tanith closed her eyes, and sighed. "My wedding. Seven hells." She lowered her head into her hands and began sobbing softly. Sandor sat gingerly on the bed next to her, and put his arm around her, covering her whole body with just his forearm. To his surprise, she leaned into his chest. He could smell her. Flowers, with a sweetness like honey. Sandor could have gotten drunk on it.

They sat there for a few minutes, before Tanith composed herself and apologised. Sandor shook his head, letting his arm fall.

"Sandor," she said. "I just wanted you to know that I know you didn't betray me."

"What do you mean?"

"When Cersei asked about you and me," she said. "I know you would not have said anything to implicate me in treason. She alluded that you did."

"What are you on about?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "She told me that she had spoken to you… about marrying me."

Sandor stood. "Marrying me? She hasn't…"

Tanith looked gravely at him, and sighed. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"Tanith," he took her arms, and held her close to his body. He could feel the heat bouncing between them, and saw her chest rise and fall with heavy breathing, and suddenly felt aroused. He had not visited the brothels since before the girl came to King's Landing, and did not feel as if it would satisfy him. He looked into her eyes, consuming him the longer he looked. "What is this about?"

"I… I did not want to marry Gregor, so I lied to them," she whispered. "I told them you had offered me your hand."

Sandor kept his gaze on her, waiting for the moment she would reveal it was a cruel joke. When Tanith did not respond, he let her go.  
"What were you thinking, girl?" he burst angrily. "How could ye say something like that to the Lannisters, and better yet, drag _me_ into it?!"

"I don't know," she confessed dumbly. "I just couldn't accept that I was marrying that… monster! It was the first thing that came into my mind."

Sandor turned to face the window, and watched the view quietly. He pondered what the queen must think of her, him, of them.

"What did she say to that, Cersei?" He turned around to face Tanith again, who was now standing behind him.

"She told me that she had confronted you, and you denied it," she replied. "Said you were insulted by my lies, going against your brother."

Sandor scoffed. "Girl, let me tell you this, no one hates my brother more than me."

"Then help me." She moved closer to him, and put her hand on his chest. She stroked the cold metal armour of his breastplate, lightly running her little fingers around the intricate design. By the window, the moonlight was shining on one side of her face, illuminating her features and igniting the grey in her green eyes like electric currents. The light outlined her cleavage above her dress, and highlighted her hair. Sandor wanted to take her there on her bed, but he was overcome with more than just a lust for the girl. Her room, the candles, the moonlight, her scent. The way she touched him. It was more romantic. He wanted to scoop her up lightly, lay her on the bed and slowly and softly make love to her.

Then he knew.

He was snapped out of his reverie by her repeating, "Help me."

"What can I do?"

"You're saying my family leave before the wedding," she said, beginning to sound more confident. "When we know they are out of the capital, you can take me to join my mother. We'll stay in hiding, the Arryns and the Starks can help us. And then we'll help Warren."

"We can't do that."

"Why not?"

"It's not gonna work, trust me," Sandor said gruffly. "I need to go."

"Sandor, please!" she yelped. "There has to be something we can do! You'd be safe in the Vale. I promise. We would both be safer." She walked over to the door and stood by it, attempting to bar it with her tiny body. "You know more than I do that I cannot marry him."

Sandor grabbed her and lifted her away from the door, before saying coldly: "You have to. Goodnight, my lady."


	7. Chapter 7

_Tanith_

Cersei took Tanith's chin, tilting her head and examining her cut lip and bruised cheek, which had begun turning a dull blue. She tutted, "Pity, with your wedding in a matter of days." She took a step back and examined Tanith. "Are you eating?"

Tanith probably had lost weight. Every time she tried to take a bite of something, she felt sick with worry and would not be able to keep it down. Her stomach lurched at the mention of Gregor Clegane or her wedding or her family. Tanith and had been trying materials for her wedding dress in the queen's study all morning, though barely conversing with Cersei. Certainly neither of them had mentioned the incident last night, the evidence of which was now branding Tanith's face.

"Your grace," Tanith cleared her throat. Cersei barely looked up from the fabrics she was toying with. "I think you would suit a high collar, your breasts are a little too big for a dipped neck. We do not want you looking common," she said, hovering a piece of white material over Tanith's neck. She gestured to Shae, who had been observing silently. Shae took the material, and curtseyed before leaving.

"Your grace," Tanith repeated.  
"I think we are almost there," Cersei said proudly. "We will just need to work on your veil. I will release you, and we can deal with that tomorrow." She pulled the fabrics, draped loosely across Tanith's body, and gestured for her to get down from the stool she was standing on. Tanith did so, and pulled her own dress back on. She quickly and carelessly tied her hair back, and walked over to Cersei, who had now sat at her desk to look over some papers.

"Your grace," she said again. "I was wondering, if my family would be in attendance at the wedding?"

Cersei looked up at her. "There have been some… changes. Your mother will leave for the Vale the day before the wedding. I am afraid with the Northern rebellion, we cannot wait for reinforcements to come to us."

"And my brother?"

"As I say, we cannot wait. He leaves with Ser Jaime's army at the same time. They are meeting my father to prepare for Robb Stark's crossing of the Twins."

"He is travelling that far?" Tanith asked.

"He is allying with the Freys. The Riverlands are in turbulence, but my brother fooled the Starks once before. We are going to thwart this petty rebellion once and for all." Cersei's tone lowered, and she gazed past Tanith. Tanith remembered Jaime Lannister's return to the capital; it had been mere days since her family's arrival, as it was around the same time Lord Stark was taken prisoner. It was common knowledge that Jaime didn't escape; the Starks let him go. Cersei clenched her fist and narrowed her eyes, before snapping out of her reverie and looking directly at Tanith. "That is what it is, you know. A silly coup."

"Of course, your grace."

Tanith left the queen's study and felt relieved to be excused, even if just for an afternoon. She considered going to the seafront, as she had not been there in a while. Then she considered the conversation she had just had with the queen, and knew where to go.

 _Sandor_

He was alone in the courtyard when she appeared, flushed and nervous. He returned to polishing his sword, and did not look up at her when she moved closer to him.

"I spoke to Cersei," she said. "It's true. Warren and Mother are leaving before the wedding. I was going to go to the library to check the maps, and work out the best route to get to the Vale without Lannisters seeing us on the road."

He ignored her. He was not risking his neck for this shit. _Not gonna fucking work._

"Sandor?"

"Wasting yer time," he said gruffly, standing and heading to the baths. She followed him, which he expected.

"I think this could work, if you help me."

"Why would I do that?" He spun around, and looked into her eyes. They weren't going to suck him into a trance now. "Ye should've stayed home in the first place. Not my fault yer marrying my brother."

"I thought you wanted to help me?" she begged, taking his arm. He shrugged her off.

"I am a guard dog," he hissed. "I do what I'm told. You and yer family ain't my problem." He saw tears well in her eyes, and knew he'd hurt her feelings. _Good_ , he thought. _Maybe she'll leave me alone now, and realise I can't help her._

"Sandor, please…" she grabbed his arm again, harder but still with the might of a dormouse. Sandor's frustration took over him, and she shook her off a little harder than he meant to. She stumbled back and fell to the ground, crashing and sending a cloud of ash around her. She grimaced and clutched her arm.

Sandor almost turned to go, but waited and tried to help her up. She cowered at first, and then anger flooded her face. She stood up and wiped the dust from her dress. Her eyes were watery, but Sandor couldn't tell if she was crying or the ash had gotten in her eyes.

He reached out his hand gingerly to offer his aid, but she swatted him away. "No, you've made yourself clear."

"Tanith, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push y-"

"Leave it," she said, brushing him away again. "You're right anyway. I need to handle this myself."

 _Tanith_

She felt foolish for getting upset in front of Sandor, and for feeling more hurt by his accidental shoving of her than she should have. She needed to be strong, in more ways than one.

She headed to the library after their altercation in the courtyard, and was relieved but not surprised to find it empty. She picked out a map of Westeros and snuck into an alcove to look over it. She was not going to risk running into anyone who may have questioned her choice of material.

Tanith considered that she should bribe someone at the harbour for a rowboat, which she would keep hidden for her getaway. She had plenty silver and gold jewellery in her room, which she knew she would need to save for such an instance. She could pay someone to take her all the way to the Vale once she was on a ship.

While pondering her ideas, Tanith briefly considered if Sandor was right. Was it all a waste of time? Would she be able to escape? She put down the maps for a moment, remembering the dream she had of her father at the heather bushes. How she longed to see that furious purple and that dragonfly sigil again.

She was startled by footsteps; they were loud, and clunking. She knew immediately who it was.

"Sorry," Sandor said, appearing.

"You found me quick," she said.

"Been looking for an hour."

"What did you want?" she asked defensively.

"What I just said," his tone matching hers. "Sorry. For hurting you."

"You didn't really," she lightly touched her elbow, which was now grazed from her fall. "Anything else? I am busy."

"Figured out yer plan yet?" he said, with a touch of humour. He leaned on the marble pillar which was guarding the little alcove Tanith was hiding in. She shook her head.

"Still finalising some details. I am unsure if I should sail to Maidenpool, or- actually, I will not bore you." She turned away from him, and buried her face in the map. She felt his presence creep closer to her, until he was leaning over her and blocking the light from the beams above them.

"Wouldn't go to Maidenpool if I were you. Ye'd need to cross Harrenhal on foot, straight into Tywin Lannister. Go to Wickendon or Old Anchor."

Tanith realised that he was right, but all she could muster was a nod and a huff noise. Sandor leaned in closer to her, tracing the map with his finger. He was so close now, she could smell him. His scent was musky, with a hint of sweat from his training. Some of his hair had also draped down as he leant forward and tickled her forehead. She brushed it away, and he cleared his throat before stepping back.  
"Thought you didn't want to help me?"

"I don't."

"So are you mocking me then?" Tanith put down the map and faced him. "You don't think I'll reach Old Anchor, do you?"

"Don't think you'll make it past the Keep." He smirked. Why was he suddenly so playful? It irked Tanith the way he switched from awkward to hostile, friendly to angry, soft to hard. Tanith knew he had a point, but she'd be damned if she would show him that on her face. She rolled the map back tightly. "I think I will retire to my chambers now, if you will excuse me, Clegane." She waited for him to stand aside, but the playful expression had disappeared from his face and was replaced by a stern look. She could feel his eyes, almost black in colour, pouring like ink into hers. She cleared her throat, but he still did not move. After a few moments she moved towards him, hoping he would move for her. Then he grabbed her by the arms, not aggressively but not lightly. She gasped softly and looked up at him, seeing him really up close for the first time. Underneath his haggard scars and hard demeanour, there was that softness that had revealed itself to her the day she first saw him. He was almost handsome.

"What are you…" she started, but was cut off by the feeling of his lips on hers. At first his lips collapsed onto hers, stopping her breathing. She struggled at first, her eyes open and fixed on him, trying to make sense of what was happening. She heard the light tap of the map falling to the floor beneath them. Then they simultaneously softened and turned their interaction into a slow, tender kiss. His grip on her arms loosened slightly as he moved away. They stood staring at each other for what felt like hours, but it was a mere few seconds before he grunted and turned away. He moved away behind the pillar and disappeared from the library. Tanith remained still, and raised her hand to hover her fingers over her lips, tracing the air so close to where Sandor Clegane had just… dare she think it, kissed her.

 _He kissed you._

In her bedroom, Tanith sat on her window ledge and gazed at the twinkling of the moon on the dancing sea waves. She held her arms with her hands, in the same spots where he had grabbed her. At first she had thought it vicious, and it frightened her. The kiss frightened her. But as she closed her eyes and tried to bring herself back to the moment, she realised she enjoyed it. It wasn't aggressive, it was _passionate_. She had never looked at or thought of Clegane like that before, especially since she had become bound to his brother in the most unfortunate way. She was still unsure what her feelings were. Was she only so taken by the kiss because of how confused and emotional she was? Did he really feel for her, or did he just take advantage of her vulnerability? The questions swirled around in her mind as she tried to sleep that night. As soon as she felt herself slipping into a dream, it was one of the library, the alcove, his huge, rough hands on her tiny arms and his lips fused with hers…


	8. Chapter 8

_Sandor_

Sandor angrily paced the courtyard when he was finally left alone after a morning training session. He had spent weeks trying to avoid or curb his growing infatuation with Tanith Folder, and yet he was always finding excuses to be near her. Seeing her with his brother at dinner made his blood boil, but by the time he returned to his chambers his anger had cooled and he dreamt of her that night, as usual.

Sandor was unsure why he kissed her. He obviously wanted to, and had for a while, but he always corrected himself and kept his guard dog composure. It was a death wish to let his true feelings show. And aside from being polite and friendly to him, as she was to everyone, she had never displayed any signs of attraction to him. He was certain she did not reciprocate his feelings – after all, how could she? Aside from the fact he was a massive, ugly brute, she was about to marry his brother, an even bigger, uglier brute. Hardly the setting in which to fall for someone.

He wished he could do something to help her. He was not just being cruel, but realistic when he said she was wasting her time trying to secure her getaway. Did she really think she could just go for a walk down to the harbour unfollowed and buy a boat two days before her wedding and nobody would bat an eyelid? _She is a fucking idiot_. Except it wasn't her fault. _She's fucking terrified_.

Her family were leaving today, as Jaime Lannister's army was preparing for their departure down at the harbour. Sandor could see the lion sigil emblazoned arrogantly on the ships all the way from the courtyard. He scoffed at it, and made his way back to his chambers. As he started down the corridor, he was approached by three figures. He instantly recognised Cersei's tall frame and lion's mane of blonde curls. The smaller girl trailing behind her, head bowed, was her. Sandor almost froze, but remembered he shouldn't give himself away to either of them. He swallowed hard and kept his pace, pausing only to bow at the queen and ignore Tanith before continuing. Meryn Trant was with them, and he had a smug sneer plastered to his ugly face.

"Dog. Wait." Cersei's voice propelled itself across the corridor. Sandor swung round. "Go and wait in my study please."

Sandor stood in the study for the best part of an hour. He stood in the middle of the room, shifting his weight between his feet and glancing around. He was rarely in here, save for occasionally bringing Joffrey to see his mother, and even then he would wait outside. It was a large room, but the study area was small, contained next to one window. Cersei's chair sat nearest the window, the thin gold drapes stroking its back as they blew with the wind. There were numerous pieces of parchment scattered rather carelessly across her desk, and a wine goblet, almost empty, sat on one side. Sandor glanced at the closed door, trying to hear any movements outside. Silence. All he could hear was the distant cawing of gulls circling the Keep outside the window and the faint hushing of the sea waves. He moved over to the table, and splayed the letters with his hand, casually scanning to try and read anything juicy.

There were a few letters from the Boltons, the Tyrells, tons from Tywin… nothing of interest to Sandor. Then his eyes met with a dragonfly sigil. Sandor was alerted by a noise outside the door, but after a few seconds nothing happened. He began reading as he picked it up, but noticed another underneath it. As he tried to scoop the other letter, he noticed that there were even more. Sandor looked closely at one with very faded ink. It was dated five years ago…

 _Tanith_

She blushed when he saw his hulking frame approach them, so she kept her head low. She used all her might – little that was left of it – to avoid his look. She knew that would probably make him feel horrible, but she just could not take the risk at this point.

Tanith was on her way to see Ulna and Warren, but Cersei and Ser Meryn accompanied her. She hoped that they would let her speak to her family in privacy, but instantly doubted it.

She was instantly relieved to find her mother and brother did not look ill. Dirty, certainly. But they had clearly been fed. Cersei had not lied about that. Ulna flung her arms around her daughter, and heaved a great sigh upon Tanith's weight as she clutched her. Tanith let out a whimper of relief, and whispered, "I have missed you, mother."

Ulna let her go, and wiped a tear. "And I you."

Warren did look a little frail, but it was more in his face, and his eyes. Tanith hoped it was just the lack of light in their cell, as there was only one barred window in the opposite corner of where they stood. Warren looked wistfully at Tanith, and she felt compelled to remember a random day at Folder Castle, when they played in the great hall as children following an argument between their parents. Back then, Warren was better at comforting his sister and acted like more of a protector. Ironically before any of his military exposure, Tanith mused. She wished they were still children: more innocent, less exposed, perhaps _too_ sheltered in the height of the Vale. Their father used to tell them that they lived in such a high place to be safe from the creatures and monsters beneath them. Tanith knew that he had not been figurative when telling that story.

"Sister," Warren sighed into her ear as they embraced. "I am sorry."

"Why?" He shook his head lightly, his eyes darting behind her to where Cersei and Ser Meryn were hovering.

"Can I have a moment alone with my sister, please? It is all I ask." Warren still spoke rather confidently, Tanith thought. She was proud that he was able to exude such an air. Tanith was no prisoner – well, not as literally as he and Ulna were – but even she felt like whatever was keeping her upright was seeping out from her pores day after day.

Cersei stood in the corridor, and whispered something to Ser Meryn. "Five minutes," he barked, and they both walked off. Warren manoeuvred around Tanith and checked to see how far they had walked. Sure that they were out of earshot, he turned back to his family.

"Tanith, there is something you should know," he began. Ulna stood to attention, her eyes filled with life again.

"Warren," she said in a warning tone. He ignored her.

"Tanith, the Lannisters wrote to us long ago. Just after father died." He beckoned for her to sit, but she couldn't. She was on constant alert, and could not relax. When he saw her refusal, he continued. "Mother knew we would lose our title as a family. It meant nothing anymore. I was too foolish and self-important to acknowledge it."

"You were also only a boy, Warren," Ulna interrupted.

"I was old enough, mother! I was old enough to take responsibility for my own family! I was- _am_ , the head of this house! I should have stepped up."

"What is all of this about?" Tanith asked. Warren paused, as if he forgot Tanith was there. She could hardly blame him for that, having not seen her in what felt like months in this place.

"I was supposed to be betrothed to a lady of another house," Warren said calmly. "But mother refused it. So that's why this has happened. They got angrier. We kept refusing."

" _I_ refused," Ulna declared. "I wanted to protect our family. I thought the marriage was unsuitable."

"Tell her why, mother," Warren scoffed. "Tell Tanith why you refused the marriage for _me_ , and not her."

Ulna looked at Tanith, her mouth slightly ajar but saying nothing. "What is it?" she begged. "Tell me!"

Her mother's face crumpled, much like it had the day she told her of the first letter – well, the first Tanith knew of. "Fine, I'll tell her," Warren announced. "I was to marry a daughter of Walder Frey. It was King Robert's idea actually. He had spoken to father and Lord Arryn about it. He wanted the Vale and the Twins to become one big geographical reinforcement, to curb any Northern protesters of Robert's Rebellion. A grand, if slightly ambitious, scheme of the late king. But our mother had heard that Lord Walder's daughters were not fair. So when the time came, she _refused_ , on the basis of my bride being ugly!"

Ulna began sobbing. "I just did not want us to settle, Warren! You are set to be the best knight in the Seven Kingdoms-"

"Oh, when will it end, mother?" he snapped. "No wonder I did nothing back then; you had filled my head up with so much air it was impossible for me to do anything rational, or careful, or selfless!"

"You… you refused Warren's betrothed… but not mine?" Tanith's words came as short, weak whispers. Ulna's head remained planted in her hands, her sobs becoming quieter and less dramatic. She refused to look up.

"Yes she did."

"How did you learn of this?"

"When we were taken prisoner, Cersei and the king made a joke about how if I had been in the Twins right now, none of this would have happened. Then mother was forced to explain. She has kept us in the dark this entire time, Tanith."

"Why were you going to let me marry Ser Gregor?" She stood over her mother, grabbing her arms. Ulna shrieked.

"Look at me!" Tanith shouted. "Why?!"

"What in seven hells is going on in here?" an angry, high-pitched voice made its way into the room. "Get out of here, girl. These prisoners are leaving soon."

Tanith looked at the king, standing proudly in the doorway with his mother lurking behind him, a smirk planted on her face. She quickly gathered herself, wiping fat tears from her face.

"My apologies, your grace," Tanith said. "It is an emotional experience, saying goodbye." She turned to look at her mother, who was now standing alongside Warren but her head still bent, avoiding her daughter's eye.

Joffrey sighed. "I thought we'd be done with all of this soon, for God's sake." Cersei laid a claw on his shoulder tentatively. "Soon, my love. They are leaving today, and after the wedding, all will be settled. We must remind ourselves of the duty House Folder will perform for us, and that this will all have been worth it." She smiled falsely at Warren and Ulna, and beckoned for Tanith to follow them. As she left, she looked back. Warren looked longingly at her. _This conversation was not over._

 **A/N: I've still not revealed all the answers yet… Sandor will be the one to do that after what he's discovered in Cersei's study! If you are reading, I hope you are enjoying. If you can/want, please review. It helps. Still figuring a lot out (pre-wedding jitters maybe? Lol).**


	9. Chapter 9

_Tanith_

"Take a seat. This will not take long." Cersei gestured to the ornate opposing chair in her study, and Tanith perched on its edge. Cersei examined her for a few moments, before breaking into a smile. "Relax. All I wish to tell you is that we are going to combine your wedding with your name-day celebrations tomorrow. I know your name-day is the day after, but you will be halfway to Clegane's Keep by then."

"I will?"

"Yes, of course," the queen rose from her chair and walked round the desk, leaning on it and looking down at Tanith. Tanith's hair was styled in the Southern way, and the queen twirled a pleat in her hands. "He has to take you to your new home before he re-joins the army in the Riverlands."

"Must I stay there alone?"

The queen shook her head, a girlish laugh unexpectedly coming from her throat. "You will have maids and servants, people to wait on you. And soon, you will have your heirs."

Tanith followed Cersei's gaze to her stomach, and tried to imagine herself pregnant with the Mountain's son. She felt bile rise within her.

"Will my mother and brother be able to join me?"

The queen sighed. "Perhaps your mother. But your brother will be needed in the army for as long as is necessary. You must understand. If the Starks only did as your family did, you would all be together and happy now."

Tanith nodded, and felt it in her to try one last time. "Can I see them one more time before they go?"

Cersei shook her head. "Absolutely not. The ships are getting ready now. Besides, you just saw them."

"Well they aren't leaving without me," the silky voice of Jaime Lannister filled the room. He strode across to the desk, placing his fists down and leaning comfortably. He flashed a smile at Tanith, which she weakly returned. "I will take the girl down to the harbour to bid farewell to her family."

Cersei returned to her seat with a look of annoyance, but said, "Very well. But take Ser Meryn with you so he can escort her back." As Tanith left the room with Ser Jaime, the queen muttered, "We do not want any stowaways."

The walk to the harbour felt agonisingly long, but Tanith was glad that Ser Jaime and Ser Meryn's conversation about weaponry filled the silence as she trudged behind them. When she finally saw her brother's glimmering curls, she bounded along to him.

"Warren." She crashed into her brother, taking in his smell and the feeling of his hair tickling her cheek and ear. Warren squeezed her tightly.

"Tanith. I am going to miss you so much."

"Warren you need to tell me everything," she begged, speaking in a hushed tone despite Jaime and Trant being several metres away. "I need to know what you found out about the Mountain."

Warren's eyes darted around, and he leaned into her. "I'll make this quick. The Mountain was a deliberate choice. We are in his debt, Tanith. Why, I do not know. But mother is allowing this marriage because of it. She has known since before we even received that letter that something like this would happen."

A horn and a flurry of voices boomed across the harbour, obviously beckoning for the ships to be boarded now. Tanith was barely listening.

"I need to go now," Warren grabbed Tanith by her arms tightly, and planted a hard kiss on her forehead. "I'm so sorry that I cannot be with you Tanith."

"Wait," she pleaded. "You have to help me, please!"

"My lady," Trant's raspy voice interrupted them as he took her arm and pulled her back. "It's time to let them go."

"NO!" she howled at him, pushing him back. "Warren, please, no!" Her brother pulled her back in one last time, squeezing every inch of her and kissing her hair. He held her for another moment, and whispered, "Listen, the Hound has what you need. Go to him before the wedding."

Before Tanith could utter another word, she was hauled back by Trant and Warren became lost in the squabble of soldiers heading up the dock and onto the ship. Tears flowed down her face as she was restrained, calling her brother's name again and again until his golden curls became lost in a sea of armour and swords.

 _Sandor_

She was in tears and being carried by Trant when he saw her. _Probably not the best time to tell her what ye know._ Sandor ducked into an alcove near them, out of sight but within earshot.

"Stop yer fussing, girl!" Trant hissed, letting her go outside her chambers. "In you go." The girl turned to face him, and wiped her face calmly.

"I do not wish to go in," she said quietly. "I wish to take a walk… alone."

"As if I'm gonna let you do that," Trant scoffed. "Queen wants you here till the wedding."

"I almost forgot about that." She uttered sarcastically. She pushed on her door and let it thud behind her, and Trant cursed under his breath as Sandor appeared.

"For once I'm glad to see you, Hound," he muttered, nodding his head toward Tanith's door. "Keep a lookout will ye? Make sure she doesn't move."

"And where are you going?" Sandor asked, taking a protective stance in front of her door nevertheless.

Trant ignored him, and disappeared down the corridor, and Sandor knocked softly on the door.

"Piss off, Trant!"

"It's not Trant." There was a pause, followed by feather-light footsteps and the door opening a crack. Sandor was saddened to see her pretty face blotchy and swollen with crying, her green eyes drowning in fresh tears about to be released.

"Come in," she whimpered, and turned back into the room. He followed. She gestured to the bed, and he sat obediently, not saying a word. He waited patiently while she cleaned her face as best she could, and heard her taking a few deep breaths. Then, she turned to face him, and pulled the chair from her vanity table over so it was a few feet from him. She sat, and took one more breath.

"You need to talk to me."

"Aye."

"Go on. I need to hear it all."

"I was waiting in the queen's study the other day when I found some letters. To and from your mother and Cersei. Most of them were dated before your mother claims Cersei first wrote to you. Most of them were about some arrangement involving my brother."

"Yes. Warren told me that my family is in debt to Gregor. Why?" Sandor could barely believe the serenity in her demeanour now, so transformed from the blubbering mess that had appeared before him earlier.

"Tanith," he began. "Believe me when I tell ye, I had no idea. Cersei came in when I was reading the letters. Thought she'd have my head for catching me, but she seemed pretty chuffed that I'd found them. She loved explaining it to me, fucking _revelled_ in it."

"Tell me."

Sandor paused, and rubbed between his eyes with his fingers. "Years ago, my brother was sent to Folder Castle to be a part of the defensive garrison during the Rebellion. Stopping the Mad King's men from getting beyond the Vale. He didn't like it, wanted to be more involved in the fighting in King's Landing."

Tanith folded her arms, and leant closer to him. "I know there is more, Sandor."

"Aye, well, after a while, your father sent him back here. Yer mother claimed he tried to rape her. Harran wanted a trial. She wanted his head. But Robert couldn't kill him; Tywin Lannister had invested a fuck ton in this rebellion for him and he couldn't kill his prize fucking knight."

"Then what happened?"

"So that was it," he said. "He wasn't gonna die, but Harr- your father was stuck between his family and his duty. So he chose family. He withdrew his forces, because Robert never got justice for your mother. Robert must've been angry, but I guess he had bigger fish to fry."

"Was it true?" Tanith rose, and began pacing. She refused to look at Sandor, and began picking the skin on her cuticles and smoothing her dress over and over despite it being creaseless.

"No."

"How can you be sure?"

"I know, Tanith. I can show ye them myself if that's what it takes." He walked over to her and softly took her arms in his hands, holding her just closer than arm's length.

"Show me what?"

"The letters," Sandor said. "Your mother says, plain as day that she made it up. He never touched her. My brother's no saint – she knew his reputation – but he never laid a finger on her. The letter was an attempt at an apology before Cersei demanded the marriage. Your marriage."

Tanith's mouth fell open. She reached up to grab Sandor's waist for support, but felt herself needing to sit down. He moved her to the bed, and sat her down. He loomed over her first, then sat next to her and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Why would she do it?"

Sandor shrugged. "Sorry. I don't know. Ye'll need to ask her, if ye see her again."

"I don't want to see her again," Tanith said quietly. "Ever."

She lay on his lap and sobbed quietly into his tunic, and he wrapped his arms around her, not too tight. He let her sink into him and he took all of her in: the smell of her hair, the feeling of it licking his chin and neck as she tucked her head under his. He felt the soft material of her dress as he scooped her onto his lap, and let her cry.

After a few hours, Sandor checked that Tanith was asleep, and gently lifted her from his lap and onto her bed. He headed for the door.  
"Sandor, wait." Her voice permeated the silence of the Keep. He turned around and met his eyes with hers, the green and grey still glinting in the distant moonlight.

"Warren told me something today. He says you have what I need."

He walked slowly back toward her, leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. Then he whispered in her ear, "I will give it to you tomorrow. Sleep well, Lady Tanith."


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Hey, sorry it's been a while – went from having nothing else to do to being super busy! Also was unsure how far I wanted to go with this chapter before moving onto a new one. But here is the wedding! (Well, most of it) Thank you to those who are bearing with, it's greatly appreciated.**

 _Tanith_

"It's smudged. Do it all again." Cersei demanded, hovering close behind Shae who was dabbing Tanith's face with rouge.

"Her kohl as well, your Grace?" Shae asked. The queen nodded and returned to her desk, pouring herself a third glass of wine. They had been getting ready for the wedding in the queen's study all morning. Cersei half-heartedly raised the glass in offer to Tanith, who for the third time declined.

"You could probably use it, on a day like today," the queen scoffed and took a gulp. "One's wedding day is supposed to be the happiest… mine was, until the sun went down and the celebrations died and I realised what I had actually married." Tanith took her eyes away from Shae's concentrated expression and watched Cersei's gaze loom into a distant memory she did not want anyone to see. Tanith wanted to vomit. The queen knew what it was like to be thrust into a situation like this. She once felt what Tanith was feeling now: the rising of bile in her stomach and goose bumps covering her skin despite the stifling day in the capital. Having to put on a pretty white dress that would later be violently torn from her quivering body as she had to lay down and consummate a marriage to the biggest brute in Westeros.

"Do you have any advice for me, your Grace?" Tanith asked almost mockingly. Cersei was too tipsy to notice. She snapped from her daydream and stood, facing the window.

"Do what you are told." She said so quietly Tanith almost did not hear her, but she did. She also heard the sinister sentiment it carried.

Tanith changed her mind about the wine, and abruptly strode over to the desk to pour herself a goblet. Cersei turned and watched as she took three large gulps, before replenishing her glass. The queen's mouth formed a small smile, but Tanith looked into her eyes and saw something she had never seen in the queen's eyes before: sympathy.

"You are right, your Grace, this was what I needed," Tanith took another swig and returned to her seat. "Are we almost done?"

Shae nodded, and added one more dash of rouge to her cheeks. "I had to put a little more on, Lady Tanith. You were rather pale today."

"Haven't been eating much."

"No, you really should try to eat something before the ceremony." Shae suggested.

Tanith shrugged, stood and flattened out the front of her undergarment. "Let's dress me, then."

"You look beautiful, my lady." Shae smiled at Tanith through the mirror, and Tanith returned it. She looked at herself, slowly moving her eyes from the elegant trim of her dress up to her hair, which had been styled in her own way with her dragonfly clasp glinting between locks of brown and auburn. The dress was plain, but had been embroidered with a simple swirl of tiny flowers covering the trim and some of the bust, and one sleeve. It was detailed, but not overly festive. Tanith really loved the dress, and felt briefly happy looking at her reflection.

She was interrupted by the arrival of Jaime Lannister and Sandor. Jaime's dashing smile brought a little light into the room, at least.

"My lady, you are a vision," he took her hand and planted a small kiss upon it. Tanith was grateful for the rouge to disguise her blushing. "Truly beautiful."

"Thank you, Ser Jaime," she curtseyed, and managed a modest smile. "Is it you who is to escort me today?"

Jaime shook his head, and looked genuinely disappointed. "The man who has been given that honour is right beside me." Jaime gestured to Sandor.

"My lady."

"Clegane."

Tanith guessed that Joffrey had organised this to antagonise the lie about Sandor's proposal and to humiliate him against his brother. She almost rolled her eyes, but instead took Sandor's giant arm with a stiff smile.

Cersei clapped her hands together. "We shall go to the hall, and take our seats. You shall follow when you are called." She flashed Tanith one more smile before leaving with her twin. Shae planted a soft kiss on Tanith's cheek.

"My lady, I…" Tears began to well furiously in Shae's eyes. Tanith grabbed her hands.  
"Shae, it will be okay," Tanith felt her own eyes burning with tears ready to burst out, but she contained them with all her strength. "I have got to be strong, now, and that means that you do too."

"I know, my lady," she sighed, looking at the floor ashamed. "I will not see you again, once you go to the Westerlands."

"Perhaps not, Shae, but I will always remember you." Tanith kissed her hand, and returned to Sandor who was standing awkwardly.

"R-ready?" he grunted. She nodded, and took his arm. They stood, in their stoic position side by side, for what felt like hours.

"When will you give me it?" she whispered. Sandor almost jumped, startled by the silence they had stood in. He looked down at her, at first confused but then he seemed to remember their conversation the previous night.

"Has to be later," he said. "I'm sorry."

"What is it?"

Sandor shook his head. "All you need to know now is that I'm gonna help you."

Tanith sighed, and squeezed his arm a little tighter. In spite of her experience in the capital, the people who had betrayed her, lied to her and mistreated her, she knew that _he_ would not disappoint her. Sandor Clegane was the only person who was honest with her and whose words actually meant something. There was Warren, when he finally saw sense, but where was he now? There was Tyrion, who was undoubtedly kind, but he was still one of them. Clegane was part of no one, not even his own family. He was just _him_. And he was the only one Tanith could trust.

A voice echoed through the room from the corridor, and Sandor pulled on Tanith's arm lightly. "It's time."

Tanith was startled by the number of people in the hall, all eyes on her and Sandor as they entered the doors. She did not even look at the altar for a few minutes, instead soaking in all the strange eyes staring, judging, mocking her. She was marrying the Mountain after all.

Then she remembered. The Mountain. There he stood, his enormous back turned to her, facing forward ardently. It was like he was refusing to turn and look upon his bride. Her eyes felt sore from the furious glare of the yellow cloak draped across him. The three black dogs snarled at Tanith, making the bile rise within her again. She grabbed on tighter to Sandor, and could feel his body tense as they neared the altar, and his brother. And the point where he would let her go.

Eventually they stopped, and Tanith only then noticed the sound of the musicians plucking and strumming in the background. _Rains of Castamere. What else_.

"I do." Sandor grunted, and knocked the song from Tanith's ears. She looked at him, and realised that he had been asked if he wished to present the bride. She was about to let go of his arm, when he grabbed it back for a little longer. He gave her a hungry look, his eyes baring into her briefly yet so intensely that she suddenly felt naked. After the briefest of moments, his arm let hers fall. She walked over to Gregor, who was now looking at her. She thought he'd be smirking, but he looked completely emotionless. Almost as if he could not see her.

"Cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection."

Gregor swung the massive cloak around Tanith, the swift action creating a draft which cut through her spine. She grimaced as he tightened the cloak around her, and felt it enveloping her. She couldn't breathe.

They hurried through the words as she was desperate to release her hand from his, despising the symbolism of being bound together by the ribbon. The uproar of applause startled her as she tried to bring herself back to focus, feeling dizzy and sick and continually going in and out of daydreams. She felt lost. She was in the room physically, but her mind and her soul were miles away, at a beach somewhere, feeling the salt spray of the sea against her open skin, cleansing herself from the Mountain and the Lannisters and King's Landing.

 _Sandor_

 _What a fucking day. And we're not even at the hard part yet._ Sandor's whole body ached from tiredness, having barely slept the previous night. He also ached in longing for her, as he watched her pick at her food from his corner of the hall. It was fucking tragic, that she looked the most beautiful he had ever seen her on the day she married his brother.

The ceremony was over, thank fuck, but now was the wedding feast. Sandor had to keep his usual guard dog composure as he watched the Lannisters and their cocksuckers get drunk, sing their songs, inhale their food and completely ignore the pain and misery that beset the bride on the 'happiest' day of her life.

Joffrey had definitely inherited his mother's thirst for wine, and had been putting it away like there was no tomorrow. Sandor noticed it was now making him sleepy, and the thought of the little cunt king announcing the end of the party was making tiny beads of sweat tease his lower neck. The end of the party meant only one thing…

Sandor's horrid thoughts were interrupted by Jaime Lannister, who was pretty merry with wine himself. He strode over to Sandor and laid a hand on his arm.

"Relax, dog," he hiccupped. "You've done well today. You're relieved to enjoy the festivities."

Sandor grunted, and awkwardly walked over to the other corner of the room, behind the royal table and mostly out of sight. A few moments later something featherweight touched his elbow. He swung round to see her. Her eyes were a little swollen, and the paint on her face could no longer hide the lack of colour. She forced a smile, cleared her throat, and said, "How're you?"

 _Tanith_

Sandor scoffed. "How am _I_? Yer a funny one, Tanith."

"Today must have been difficult for you too, Sandor." He nodded.

"Never easy seeing my brother."

"That is not all, though, is it?" she leaned in, her hand sliding over his arm and squeezing it tighter. She had been blind to it before – granted, there was much going on to distract her – but she thought it last night and truly realised it today. The hesitation before he let her go during the ceremony was long enough.

"What?" he snapped, taking his eyes away from her entrancing stare.

"This is killing you, me being married."

"Better get back to yer guests, Tanith."

"Not yet," she said, in a hushed tone. "I need to know now what you're going to do. The bedding ceremony will be soon, and, try as I might, I do not think I can endure it."

Sandor's hostile composure faltered, and he took her arm a little too hard. He leant in so close that she could smell the ale on his breath. "I'm not gonna let him do that, ye hear me? Listen to me, I reckon Joffrey's gonna announce his retirement soon, and before that, I'm gonna give ye a signal. When I do that, you'll slip behind your seat and out of that door," he gestured to the door behind them, which Tanith recalled led to a tight alcove and then some stairs which eventually led to the docks. "Got it?"

"Sandor, what is-"

"Just do it, Tanith!" he hissed, and turned away from her as they both noticed Cersei approaching. She studied Tanith closely, before taking her arm and guiding her back to the royal table.

"What did that dog want?"

"Offering his congratulations, your Grace."

Cersei chuckled. "The bedding ceremony will be soon. Best have one more glass of wine."

Tanith nodded, and returned to her seat. She had probably had enough wine, but took a few sips anyway. She saw that Sandor had slipped back in front of the royal table, but was positioned at its edge. Her heart began pounding so loudly she wondered if Gregor could hear it next to him. She glanced to him, and saw him staring at her chest while gulping a large cup of ale. He had been downing ale all evening. Tanith knew of his preference to get drunk before a battle. Was she going into battle tonight?

Tanith grimaced at the sight of him ogling her, and felt sick at the thought of lying beneath his huge, sweating body. _No_ , she thought. _Sandor told you he would not let that happen. You need to trust him._

"Now, it is time for the festivities to end!" Joffrey's arrogant, slightly slurred voice boomed across the hall which fell silent. To Tanith's left, Gregor was almost dozing from drunkenness. She looked at Sandor, who nodded. This was her chance. She carefully placed her goblet on the table, quickly scanning the surrounding faces to check that they were either falling asleep or focussed on the king. She lifted her dress slightly so she could swing her legs around and step behind the seat. She kept her gaze on the crowd as she silently slipped behind the table.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Tanith almost screamed as she turned around and was met with the ugly, grinning face of Meryn Trant. His question prompted Joffrey, Cersei and most of the royal table to face Tanith. Cersei glared at her, while Joffrey sported a bemused smile.

"The bride seems very keen to get off to bed!" he jeered, and the room erupted. A tear fell from Tanith's face as her eyes darted from Joffrey's bellowing, to Trant's smirk, to Sandor's worried look from the doorway behind her.

"Go and fetch your bride, Ser Gregor!" Joffrey shouted. Gregor rose from his chair with a thunderous clatter as he almost took the table with him, and he strode over to Tanith in two short steps. Her face crumpled and quivered as he looked over her, his enormous stature blocking the light from the room as he grabbed her and flung her on his shoulder. The last thing she saw before she was taken away was Sandor's face. She almost thought she saw a tear in his eye.


	11. Chapter 11

**WARNING: This chapter is rated M for some violent content people may find distressing.**

 _Sandor_

Fucking Trant. Sandor paced the empty corridor, recently cleared of wedding guests. The Lannisters had trailed off to their chambers, and the rest of the guards were patrolling elsewhere.

What the fuck was he going to do now? His chance was lost, but he couldn't let his brother hurt Tanith. _Not her._ He was near to giving up after he saw her expression, hopeless and terrified, as Gregor carried her off.

 _Fuck this place. Fuck them all_. He had to do something.

 _Tanith_

Gregor kicked the door shut behind them with a swift swing of his leg, and set Tanith down next to him. She clutched her side, where he had gripped her, and dared herself to look up at him. He glared back, moved around her and took a drink of wine from the table in the corner. She turned around to study the room. The bed looked warm and inviting, draped with furs and skins with a crimson curtain drawn back slightly. The rest of the room was dark, lit only by a handful of candles, and smelled of sweat and dirt.

"Off." Gregor barked, and Tanith jumped. She looked at him wide-eyed, confused.

"I beg your pard-?" she stuttered.

"Dress," he grunted, pointing at her dirtied white gown. "Take it off."

Tanith looked down, thinking of the first time she saw the dress and how pretty she thought it was. She wished she'd have been proud to wear a garment so fine. But it was tainted.

She began untying the ribbons on her sleeves, careful not to rip the embroidery. She could not bear to look at him as she did so. She was not ashamed of her body, but she felt sick knowing that his eyes and hands would be infesting her soon, destroying her innocence.

"Hurry up!" He bellowed, grabbing her and throwing her to the bed face down. She smacked her cheek on the bedpost in the process, and she tasted blood as it trickled down to the corner of her mouth. Tears fell in response, the combination of tastes making bile rise in Tanith's stomach. She heard the sound of fabric ripping, and suddenly his hands, strangely warm, were smothering her back. He tore the remainder of the dress with such force that he tore the skin on her shoulders, making her yelp. Then he grabbed the back of her head by the dragonfly clasp, yanking her back.

She screamed again as he tucked his face into her shoulder. "Your mother must be _envying_ you now." She heard a sickening chuckle from the back of his throat as he ripped the clasp from her hair, tearing some of the long strands from the roots. Tanith could not hold back the scream that followed as he began removing her undergarments.

"Stop! No!" she shrieked, and spun round to face him as she clutched at the material that was left. "Please don't!"

"Shut up!" he barked, and his fist hit her head with an almighty thump. She felt the world caving in on her, the room and him cascading into a spinning mess. Her eyes lolled in the back of her head as she felt herself drifting out of consciousness.

She opened her eyes and blinked several times, but the dizziness refused to cease. She knew she was naked; she could feel his hands ripping away at the rest of her dress but her arms ached and could not move as she tried to will them. She was screaming inside her head, but all she could hear was his laughs and grunts, muffled as she drifted away. He stood back and watched her lying there, writhing in pain and covered in blood and tears. He smiled.

 _This is it. I'm going to die._

A louder sound pierced the air, but Tanith's eyes were closing. She hoped that she would be with her father soon.

 _Sandor_

 _Don't pause, don't react, don't look. Just strike. Kill the cunt._ With all his might, he whacked the door with his foot and it swung open. His brother's eyes met his immediately, the sinister smile on Gregor's face transforming to an expression of shock.

 _Just strike._

Sandor took fast strides, sword extended, until he heard a sickening crunch and squelch as it entered his brother's stomach. Gregor winced, his knees beginning to buckle as he stumbled to the ground, on his knees. Sandor went with him, only more composed, the sword connecting them. He looked right into his eyes as he sunk the blade deeper. Sandor watched closely as the light in Gregor's eyes flickered, and faded. His torso sunk into the blade, his arms relaxing. Sandor released the sword, drenched in blood, and Gregor fell with a thud. His eyes rolled, and closed. Sandor watched him for another moment, kicked him, and was satisfied that he was dead.

He did not have time to digest the fact that he had just killed his brother. He had to get Tanith out.

He swung around, as if he would miss her if not too quick, and there she lay. Sandor let out a tiny gasp as his eyes fell upon her bleeding head, her cracked lip, her bruises and her exposed body. She was so small, like a broken doll. He placed the still bloody sword back in its sheath, and scanned the room. He grabbed the first thing he could find in her trunk, which had been moved to Gregor's room today. He bent down next to her bed, and gingerly touched her arm.

"Tanith," he whispered. "Can you hear me?" Nothing.

"Tanith, please, we have to go. I know yer hurt, but ye need to come."

He studied her closely, and a wave of relief purged him as her eyes flickered open. She tried to speak, but could only muster a cough. She reached her hand to his arm, and grazed him with her little fingertips.  
"You need to get dressed." He offered his arm for her to lean on, and she managed to sit up slowly. He tried to be careful but quick as he dressed her. When she was decent, he threw a cloak around her and scooped her up. It was then that she managed his name, and touched his face with her hand.

"Sandor," she whispered. "You kept your promise."

He nodded. "I should've done this a long time ago. Come on."

Sandor planted a light kiss on Tanith's forehead before he stole her from Red Keep.

 _Tanith_

She kept her eyes fixed on him as he fled through the corridors, and soon the backdrop of his face was the night sky. She had to concentrate on his face to keep consciousness. Her head was still reeling, and she felt weak, but she was not going to let Sandor down now. He had saved her, so she needed to be worth saving.

They reached a large rock, which she recognised even in the darkness as her favourite viewpoint of the sea. Sandor bent down and sat her on the pebbles. He plied her with water, and she felt a little better already.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"I can try." She stood slowly, first overcome with dizziness, but she held onto Sandor and the rock for a few seconds and felt better. Her eyes focussed on him again, the enormous figure illuminated by the moon and stars. She looked behind him at the Keep.

"How did we get away?"

"I know where guards are, an' where they aren't."

"Now what?"

He gestured to the other side of the rock. "There's a boat there. It's chained up." Sandor produced a key from his pocket and placed it tightly in Tanith's hand. "Then go. Old Anchor, home – go to Essos, even. Just get as far away from here as ye can."

"You're not coming?" She saw a flinch of sadness flicker across Sandor's face, and he shook his head.

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

"Tanith."

"You can, Sandor!" she grabbed his arm, pleading like a small child. "If I can go, you can too! I know you long to escape this place. Please come with me – when we get to the Vale, everything is going to be fine. I promise I will help you."

She shook his head adamantly. "No, Tanith. I made these arrangements with yer brother so that you would go alone. I'm too recognisable. You'll slip under the radar."

"I will not leave without you." She stood up straight now, the reality of the situation making her headache disappear. She folded her arms and turned away from him, facing the Keep on the hillside. She wondered if anyone had discovered that she was gone…

"Fuck's sake, Tanith, yer not screwing this up!" he barked. He carried her to the boat, which was a few hundred yards away. It was bigger than a rowboat, with a shelter, but it had the appearance of a fishing boat.

Sandor placed Tanith in the boat, and unlocked the chain. The boat bobbed more ferociously as it edged away from the harbour, but Sandor pulled it back in with his boot. He bent down and planted one more kiss on her forehead, blinking away tears as he saw hers.

"Good luck, Tanith."

She nodded. "I-I want you to have this." She placed a tiny object onto the dockside beside his feet, and Sandor recognised it as it shimmered in the moonlight.

"Tanith," he said, retrieving the clasp. "I can't. This is yours."

"I know," she said. "But you will return it to me when we meet again. Which we will." She forced a smile and grabbed the oar by her feet. She made the biggest strokes she could, and she was away. She thought if she lingered a moment longer, she'd feel compelled to stay with him. Sandor's silhouette in the moonlight became smaller and smaller, as did the Keep, the shore, and the capital's skyline as she entered the vast black sea. Tanith kept rowing into the emptiness, the waves calming as she left King's Landing. She tried to picture her reunion with Sandor, when she would show him Folder Castle and the Purple Garden and her family would be there too, but as the sea opened up to her, she began to understand the reality that that may never happen…


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 _Theon_

"When do you want me to go?"

"Soon, Theon," Robb said, as they strolled along the path to the river. "We must act hastily."

"You're doing so well, your grace." Theon uttered, with a slight tinge of resentment. He really thought that Catelyn and the Tullys were the puppet masters in the raids. Robb had been mooning over that healer girl, and Theon noticed how distracted it had made him recently. He could not breathe on the air of these recent victories for much longer.

To be fair to his adoptive brother, Robb had obviously considered that his luck was going to run out, hence why he was asking Theon to return to the Iron Islands. "I'm sure my father will be of good help."

Robb nodded. "I'm sure too. I better get to mother. She wants to discuss our next steps." Robb gave Theon a firm pat on the shoulder and headed back toward the camp. Theon decided to continue on to the river. He was probably not needed. Catelyn tended to ignore him during meetings.

Theon tried to take in vast gulps of air to ease his stomach at the thought of seeing his father again after nine years with the Starks. It would not be a joyous reunion, and he would have to ask for his men and ships. Theon scowled at the thought of being ordered around all the time, but what else could he do?

The river had calmed in the past few days, and Theon considered wading in for a quick wash. Knowing his luck, he'd be stripped down to his balls and some lapdog would come barking. He kept walking along the bank, his boots making a fuzzy sound as they crushed the reeds below him. Then he heard another sound. Similar, but louder. It was like something was thrashing in the reeds right by the water. He crept further along the bank, and moved some of the taller reeds out of the way. Then he saw her.

A girl. Not much younger than him, trying to get out of a little rowboat that was lightly bobbing by the bank. Her reddish-brown hair was unkempt and draped across most of her face. Her dress was muddy and damp, and what he could see of her skin was pale, apart from cuts and bruises.

Realising he had been staring at her dumbly for too long, Theon bounded toward her just as she stumbled backwards and into the rowboat. She yelped a little as she did.

"Hey!" he remarked. "You okay?"

She looked up at him, with a glint of fear in her otherwise pretty green eyes. She said nothing. Theon leaned over her awkwardly before holding out his hand.

"Let me help you."

She reluctantly took his hand, and he gently pulled her up. As she rose to her feet, she buckled a little. Theon used his better judgement and decided to pick her up. She was in no state to walk anywhere. She felt thin, and was light to carry.

"Where did you come from?" he asked as he set her down on the grass. She did not answer. Theon reached out tentatively to tuck her hair behind her ear, so that he could see her face. She retracted like a frightened rabbit about to be caught for supper.

"It's alright," he leaned back. "I'm not gonna hurt you. What's your name?"

"What's yours?" she asked quietly.

"I asked you first."

She sighed. "If there's anything I've learned, it's not to trust anyone."

Theon looked at her for a few seconds. _Fuck, this girl must have been through something_.

"Fine, I'm Theon Greyjoy, last remaining son of Balon Greyjoy and heir to the Iron Islands."

She looked at him disbelievingly and said nothing for a few moments. Theon felt stupid for doing the whole title. Eventually she said, "You're Ironborn?"

Theon nodded. She tucked her unruly hair behind her ears, and said, "I've never met anyone from the Iron Islands."

"You've missed out then… till now," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "Gonna tell me who you are then?"

"I'm Tanith," she coughed lightly. "Folder."

"You are not," Theon scoffed. "The daughter of Harran Folder? Isn't she the bride of the Mountain?"

The girl nodded. "I was." Tears began to slide down her cheeks, and she looked beyond Theon and into a distant nowhere.

"You really married him?" he asked quietly, as if the Mountain were listening. She nodded and began sobbing quietly. Theon gingerly touched her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said, her head in her hands. "It has just been…. so difficult."

"Nothing to be sorry for. What are you doing here then?"

She looked up, and at her surroundings. "I… I do not know. I was heading for Old Anchor… I do not know where I am."

Theon sighed. "I'm sorry, but… you're in the Riverlands. This is the army camp for the campaign in the North."

She looked startled, despite her exhaustion. "I am?" Theon nodded.

"Look, you've clearly had a time of it, so I'll take you to Ro- King Robb," Theon stated. "He will decide what will happen."

She nodded. Theon nodded, and helped her up.

 _Tanith_

Since. That was how Tanith processed her thoughts these days. Since. _How long since I have seen another person. How long since I have eaten. How long since I left King's Landing_. The sad thing was, it hadn't helped. She did not know how long she had been drifting on the little rowboat.

She was unsure what to make of the man who had hauled her out of the boat who called himself Theon Greyjoy. She did not know what Ironborn looked like, but he did not look southern. She was a little relieved to be with a person again though.

Theon had helped her for a little of the way, until she got used to walking again and they just walked side by side. He kept looking as if he wanted to say things, have a conversation, but thought better of it and kept walking. He broke the silence by saying, "Almost here." Tanith looked beyond them and noticed a little collection of tents. As they reached the first few tents bordering the camp, she saw soldiers marching in all directions, ladies carrying baskets and pushing carts, some men with nasty-looking wounds lying in the mud as a healer reapplied their bandages. Around them were banners softly sailing in the light wind, emblazoned with a grey wolf. Sure enough, this was the Stark camp.

Theon took her arm, and smiled at her, before heading toward what seemed to be the largest tent in the camp. Two men guarding it looked at Theon, then at Tanith, and he nodded to them. They stood aside. "Come on," Theon said. "In here."

Tanith had never met him, but she recognised Robb Stark as soon as she saw him. He had a luxurious mop of black curls, and striking eyes like a Tully, but stood with the discipline and confidence of a Stark. He was dressed in armour, but it did not seem like the camp was ready for a battle. He was leaning over a table covered in maps and little figurines, seemingly depicting the War of the Five Kings. He looked up and straight at Tanith. His puzzled look gave way when he said:  
"Theon, what do you have here?"

"I found her at the river, your grace," Theon said. "She was in a bad way. She's fled from the capital."

Robb raised an eyebrow. "You've come from King's Landing?"

Tanith nodded. "Yes, your grace. But I am from the Vale."

"Who are you?"

"She's Harran Folder's daughter," Theon interjected. "She's the runaway bride of the Mountain."

Robb gave Theon an unconvinced look. "Now, Theon. That was just a story."

"It's true," Tanith said quietly. She cleared her throat. "I was forced to marry Ser Gregor but I fled before my wedding night. I do not know how I ended up here, your grace, so my apologies for the intrusion on what I understand must be a time-consuming and testing campaign."

Robb let out a small gasp, and a smile. "Well, you certainly are brave if you've done that. How can we help you?"

Tanith was unsure how to respond. She did not know where she wanted to go anymore. Her mother may not be at the Vale, and her brother could have been killed by now.

"I… I have nothing left. I do not know where my family is. I am unsure if my home is safe. All I know is I do not want to return to the Lannisters and King Joffrey."

Robb smirked. "Well that's good; we wouldn't do that to you. Talisa," he called, and a woman emerged from the curtains behind him. "I need you to see to Lady Tanith." The woman curtseyed, and smiled at Tanith. Robb looked back at Tanith with a warm smile. "You are safe now. There is no need to worry. We will talk later."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 _Theon_

Theon waited patiently as Robb corresponded with Catelyn. He had also not seen Tanith since the healer girl had taken her away with her, but he was sure she was in good hands. _Not my problem anymore_ , he thought. _I've been enough of a hero for one day_.

He had been having a few drinks with some of the Stark men, whose gossip over the sizzling romance between Robb and Talisa had subsided in favour of the new arrival.

"Can't believe the Mountain's runaway bride is in our camp."

"I didn't even believe anyone could run away from the Mountain."

"D'ye think it was consummated?"

"Nah, she'd be ruined!" They all laughed. Theon chuckled quietly to himself. She did not look much like a noble bride anyway, but she'd probably be in much worse shape if the Mountain _had_ had his way with her.

One of them chucked his tankard down and stood, clutching his groin. "I may not be as tall as him, but I've still got something!" They all roared with laughter and slurped on their drinks simultaneously. Theon took a large gulp, almost grimacing at the tanginess as the beer soaked the back of this mouth.

"What if she's lying, and she's just a whore?"

"Well, lads, get your coins out and get in line!" Theon found himself saying. "I'm first! Although, she might not want any more after I'm done with her!" More laughter and the clashing together of tankards echoed into the smoky sky.

"I am not a whore, actually," a voice boomed across the group. The men's faces dropped, and Theon turned around to see Talisa and another girl standing. Wait, it was her. Tanith. Except she looked different. She had washed and was wearing a nice clean dress. She was pretty. She shot Theon a dismal look. "I am a lady, and intend to keep the virtue I escaped with from now-void marriage. I trust that has settled your numerous queries. Goodnight."

 _Fuck, she certainly came out of her shell_ , Theon thought. _She was like a new girl. A woman._ Talisa crept forward to Theon. "I think you should apologise to her."

"Why?" Theon shrugged, taking another drink. He tried to quell the feeling of bile in his stomach. He did feel rotten for what he said.

"She feels displaced here. You should be kind."

"Well I brought her here to help her, if she's feeling 'displaced' she should fuck off to her pretty palace in the Vale!" Theon remarked defensively. So much for heroism.

Talisa sighed. "I can see your empathy is short lasting." She walked off. Theon downed the rest of his beer and headed back to his tent. _Uppity bitch_ , he thought. _Can't she take a joke?_ Except she wasn't a bitch. She was just a girl who was lost. Theon of all people knew what it was like to be stuck in a place that wasn't home.

 _Tanith_

She felt so stupid for crying that night. She had wiped the tears away and kept her head down as she moved silently through the camp. Talisa had kindly cleaned her dress, found some nightclothes and a tent for her, which had been used to supply extra materials for wounds. It was a little crowded, but the hordes of wool around her almost made her feel protected.

She had hoped that her experience with the Lannisters and her travels here had toughened her enough to withstand some stupid drunken comments from randy soldiers, but here she was crying again. It was all she seemed to be able to do.

Tanith's tears dried as the days progressed. Theon had avoided her, and she him. She was not going to entertain him with any attention if he were not going to apologise.

King Robb had been kind, and so had Talisa. She was a healer from Volantis, who had come to the battlefield shortly after Joffrey's ascension to assist with casualties. Luckily, she had said, there had not been too many. King Robb's raids against the Lannister forces had been successful. Tanith listened with wonder and interest, but she knew already a little of what was going on. She remembered that conversation with Cersei after Jaime's capture; she called the war a petty rebellion but they both knew it was more than that.

Tanith was to shadow Talisa as a healer, and when the war was over, King Robb would ensure that she would be reunited with her family and returned to her home however possible. Tanith was happy with this arrangement; she was grateful at all that they let her stay at the camp. She felt at ease knowing Lady Catelyn was there. She heard that she was a kind woman, sympathetic yet strong. She was unsure if Warren or her mother would be alive to be reunited with her, but she decided to put that awful thought in a locked box in her mind.

She was happy to be doing something, to be kept busy during the long days while men practised swordplay and Robb, Theon, Catelyn and the Tully brothers discussed next steps. She despised those dreadful hot days in King's Landing, pottering about with nothing to do except worry and think. The climate here was better, and so was Tanith's purpose. She had never been of any use to anyone before, and she liked it.

She was in the other supply tent one afternoon, cleaning rags, and thinking about how different things were here in the Riverlands. She let out a small sigh, and smiled to herself.

"You've settled right in." A voice from behind startled her and she swung around.  
"What do you want?" she asked Theon. He had a silly smirk on his face.

"Just glad that you're getting on well. Glad I rescued you!" He winked, and Tanith looked back down at her washing. She heard his footsteps slowly near her, and she could smell him stronger. He smelled of metal and sea salt. _Truly Ironborn_ , she remarked in her mind.

"Look, sorry for avoiding you. And sorry for what I said. It's just… you know, that's how they talk. Soldiers."

"That was days ago, Theon, I am not bothered." Tanith said firmly, scrubbing harder and avoiding his look.

"Oh… well good. But I am sorry."

"I'm sure you are."

"Look, I'm not gonna grovel and beg for your forgiveness, my lady," Theon snapped. "It was a dumb joke, and I've apologised. Now that's the end of it."

Tanith was rather taken aback. She set down her rag and looked at him. He wasn't quite angry, but he was certainly miffed at the sarcasm in her reply. She did not expect it from him. Her lips parted slightly, and formed a smile.

"I accept your apology, Theon." Theon looked at her, studying as if to spot a hint of more sarcasm. When he found none, he cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to leave. Tanith went back to scrubbing, before his voice trailed through the tent once more.

"One more thing. We're having a special supper tonight. In King Robb's tent. You're invited."

"What's the occasion?"

"Do you wanna come or not?"

Tanith scowled. "Well, if you are going to be so rude, then perhaps I will not."

"Sorry." Theon looked at his feet, like a child caught stealing. "It's my name day, and I would be happy if you joined m… us. It was King Robb who invited you."

"Then I shall."

Theon nodded, and sauntered off. Tanith laughed. He was a character, for sure. Since meeting him, he had been kind, protective, rude, ignorant, completely absent, kind again, rude again, awkward and of course, rude. But something about him made Tanith think the rude, arrogant Theon was a front. She was intrigued to see the real him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 _Theon_

Theon was embarrassed at asking Tanith to come to the supper. It had been Robb's idea, who suggested that she might still be feeling lonely and it would be a kind thing to do. And she was from a noble family.

Theon forgot that most of the time. His first impression of her as a dirty, disorientated runaway had become ingrained in his mind. Despite that she was neater and wore clean clothes now, he could still not picture her in pretty dresses with a painted face, sitting at a joust fluttering her eyelashes and waiting ardently to catch some idiot knight's favour.

To be fair to her, she didn't seem that kind of girl, and the thought made Theon smile.

"What you so chuffed about eh?" Robb's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Er, nothing," he quipped. "Nothing to be cheerful about, being a year older."

"You wouldn't happen to be excited about our guest joining us shortly?" Theon looked at Robb, and wanted to smack his smug face.  
"Dunno what you're talking about. It was your idea to ask her along."

"You think I made a mistake? I do think we should respect her family name and treat her so."

"Yeah, course. Look, more importantly, when have I to go to Pyke?"

"Soon, soon." Robb answered, disinterested. Theon noticed Catelyn shoot Robb a look of annoyance. _She's noticed it too_. Robb was becoming increasingly distracted, and it wasn't like things were going swimmingly. Cersei Lannister had rejected his offer of peace if she returned his sisters to him. They did not have the Kingslayer. There were now rumours of an alliance with Walder Frey to cross the Twins so they could ambush Riverrun. Robb would marry one of Frey's daughters. They were not renowned by hearsay to be the best looking bunch of lasses, but Theon worried that Robb decision would be too heavily influenced by Talisa. Marrying her would not protect the army. Theon was no diplomat or negotiator, but even he could see that Robb was struggling.

Tanith entered, and they all stood in unison to greet her. She curtseyed for Robb and Catelyn, and warmly hugged Talisa, before sitting next to Theon. Robb made a half-baked toast to Theon, to which everyone raised their glass. Theon was not really paying attention. Then the cheers fell to a dull clinking of cutlery and quiet chatter among Robb, Talisa, Catelyn and her brother Edmure.

"Good evening." Tanith smiled at Theon.

"Good evening."

"I did not know it was your name day."

"You did. I told you."

"When?"

"Earlier today when I invited you."

Tanith laughed heartily, and a warm feeling enveloped Theon's stomach.

"You seem to have settled in." She nodded, and smiled again.

"I feel good here. I feel safe."

"I'm afraid things don't really stay as they are in an army camp," he told her. "We will be moving on soon."

"I understand," she said. "You know what I mean though, in the grand scheme of things. King's Landing was no party."

"I can imagine," he said. He felt awkward asking, but she seemed at ease. "Did he… I mean, the Mountain, did he…"

"No. I did marry him, but it was not consummated."

"I'm glad," he said. She shot him a look. "Y-you know, that that bastard didn't hurt you. Doubt you'd have made it out alive."

She sighed, and looked down at her plate, which was almost cleared. She looked less thin than when Theon first found her. She was also no longer the quiet, awkward, lost girl wandering aimlessly around camp from a few days before.

"You are probably right," she said with a hint of sadness. "I am just glad to be able to leave that life behind."

"You're safe now." Theon felt stupid for being so… sensitive. It wasn't his style. Yet he rested his hand on hers, and gave it a light squeeze. Before he realised what he was doing, she squeezed back, and looked at him for a few moments.

"I never properly thanked you, for what you did." She smiled at him, and Theon thought he saw a small tear trying to fight its way down her cheek. She blinked briskly and it disappeared.

"It's alright," he said. "What was I gonna do, leave you there to fend for yourself?" He laughed, and so did she. He seemed to laugh and smile a lot when she was around. Theon could never even hold a conversation with a lady, let alone confide in her, joke with her, and touch her. He'd fucked loads, but there was no talking, no compassion, no kindness. And the strangest feeling was that it did not seem entirely one-sided. He decided to take a punt.

"Would you like to take a walk tomorrow? With me?"  
She smiled. "That would be nice."

 _Tanith_

Tanith straightened the front of her dress, tying it tight at the top. She smoothed down her front and gave herself a quick once-over in the small mirror she had borrowed from Talisa. She thought she looked okay, but was missing her clasp which would have made her hair look less unruly.

Tanith dipped into a daydream as she headed to the riverbank. Why was she suddenly so concerned about her appearance? It did not matter that she looked pretty; they were surrounded by bloody bandages, stale food, animal leavings, and soldiers who were drunk half of the time. And it was all she could do to ignore the smell.

Tanith left the tent, and noticed that everyone was packing up. Things were moving on quicker than even Theon thought, she realised. She darted behind a group of soldiers carrying crates, hoping she would not be detected slipping away from camp. She was unsure if Theon would already be there waiting, or she would have to wait for him. Or if he would remember to come.

She snapped out of it. She had to stop overthinking.

"Tanith!" Talisa's agitated voice cut through the voice in her own head telling her to calm down. "I'd been calling your name for some time, why didn't you slow down?"

"I'm sorry," Tanith replied. "I truly did not hear. I was miles away." Tanith tapped her temple and made a face.

"Did I interrupt?"

"Of course not," Tanith looked around. Theon was nowhere to be seen. She could keep him waiting a bit. "What is it?"

Talisa grabbed Tanith's hands with a little urgency, and pulled her into a little alcove between tents. "I need to tell you something. It's important, and I need you to be discreet."

"Of course," Tanith nodded. "You can trust me."

"It's Ro-King Robb and I," she whispered softly. Tanith suddenly realised how distinctive her accent was. It was so exotic, like a soft purr as she leaned in to tell her the secret. "We are getting married. Tonight. You must keep it to yourself."

"Married? But what about-"

"He doesn't want to marry the Frey girl," she said. "He never did. But he needs to work his way around things. That's why you cannot tell anyone for now."

"I will not say a word," she replied honestly. "I am pleased for you though. I could tell you two were in love."

Talisa smiled, and hugged Tanith close. "You are so kind, and understanding. I knew I could trust you. Will you come to the ceremony tonight? It will just be us and Theon. Robb hasn't told Lady Stark yet."

"Of course I will." They embraced again.

Theon was already waiting for her when she arrived at the river. He smiled at her. A light drizzle of rain began filling the air with a damp, earthy smell which Tanith had come to love during her time in the Riverlands.

"Lovely day for it." she said sarcastically. Theon chuckled. They began to stroll along the river, near to where they first met. She remembered it, and the little rowboat Sandor had prepared for her was still there, bobbing delicately against the reeds. The wind was picking up, and Tanith regretted not wrapping up warmer. She shuddered, and to her surprise and slight amusement, Theon shook off his outer tunic and practically flung it around her shoulders.

"Better?" he asked confidently. She nodded, and smiled. "Do you know about the wedding tonight?"

"The secret wedding we are to tell no one about?" Tanith smirked. "Yes, I know."

"Aye, well fuck that," he quipped. "Sorry for swearing, but I can't pretend I'm happy with it."

"Do you like her?" Tanith asked. _Why am I asking him that?_

"She's nice enough." Theon looked at her, and Tanith assumed that she must have had a concerned expression on her face because he then held up his hands and said, "No, not like that. It's just, Robb isn't himself right now. He isn't focussed. It's like a holiday."

"I'm sure he is taking it seriously," Tanith reassured him. "What can he do if he loves her?"

"He made an agreement with the Freys. The Gods know what'll happen now."

Tanith paused. Theon was right. She never realised how assured he could be. "I'm sure there will be a way around it. Catelyn is smart."

"Aye, she is. Anyway, enough about them, what's your story? Where did ye grow up?"

"Me?" Tanith had not really expected Theon to strike up such an interest in her life.

"Aye, you're the only one here." They both laughed softly, looking slightly longer than briefly at each other before becoming fixated on their feet as their walking slowed and their bodies neared.

"Well, I lived in the Vale until I went to the capital."

Theon raised an eyebrow. "I've never been. Is it nice?"

"It's beautiful," Tanith said wistfully. She realised it had been the first time she thought about that part of her life in a long time. Her prison sentence in the capital had conditioned her to lock those precious memories away from the Lannisters and the Mountain. "Rolling hills for miles, deep, swooping valleys and lush green in the spring and summer. Oh, and the purple garden is the most mesmerising place!"

"Purple garden?"

"It was the garden in my home, Folder Castle. Father named it so because it would grow these wonderful flowers in the summer. They were the richest, deepest purple colour. It was so exotic, for that part of the country, you know."

Tanith fell away on a tangent, telling Theon about her garden strolls with her father, while Warren would pose around with his sword and narrowly miss hitting servants while her mother would applaud. She spoke of the wintry days where they would be huddled by the roaring fire in the castle's great hall and watch the snowflakes dwindle and disappear onto the stone windowsills. She spoke of her father's death, and the irreparable rift it left in the family.

"I'm afraid it isn't a very happy ending after that." She stopped walking and looked down at her rain-soaked boots.

She suddenly became paranoid that she had bored Theon half to death, but to her surprise she looked at his face, and it was alight with interest. He took her hand, and said, "It isn't the end. This is the beginning."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 _Tanith_

Tanith dreamt of her home for the first time in months that night. She was a child again, playing in the castle grounds with her brother. She was aware of a figure watching them, but could not see her father's face. She followed the figure into the purple garden and ugly, wilting brown vines spouted and surrounded him as he walked away, further and further from her. The sun faded as the purple flowers died and the garden became hideously overgrown. Tanith screamed her father's name as she became lost deeper into this unrecognisable place.

It was not her home anymore, and he was gone.

She woke dripping in sweat. She gathered herself and calmed, and emerged from her tent to find Theon standing there. She forced a smile, but felt floored by her tormenting dream.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "I heard a scream."

"Nightmare," she shrugged. "Nothing to worry about."

Theon nodded. "I was on my way to invite you to walk with me again this afternoon. If you have time, that is."

"I think I would like that."

Their walks became a regular thing over the weeks, something Tanith looked forward to when the bad dreams became more recurrent. She did not feel like she could burden King Robb with her troubles, nor Talisa, who was becoming increasingly busy, but Theon was always there to listen. Not that he was a last choice by any means. In fact, Tanith often sought his company too when she wasn't ripping cloth for bandages or cleaning dishes. He was busy most mornings, but late afternoon was an open window for the two of them to meet and talk, sometimes for hours. She often wondered what the others may think, but considered that they obviously had bigger things to worry about.

They would sit in his tent sometimes, if the weather did not allow for strolls, and she probably enjoyed this more. Each time they met, they gradually sat closer together and she began to wonder if it was not just her that felt something more than polite friendliness. These liaisons also opened her mind to how handsome he was, something she perhaps had not noticed before, or let herself notice. He was small in stature, but he had a strong chest and arms. He had the palest blue-grey eyes, which she could see kindness in. She could feel his body heat and pulse when she sat by him and it thrilled her a little.

Tanith wondered if he had any of these feelings for her. He enjoyed her company, otherwise he would not seek it so often, but she had never been in a situation where a man was attracted to her. She was just entering adulthood, and her first experience of romance was anything but. It was scary, yet also exciting, wondering what he was thinking. He told her a lot of things about his life, but his feelings were a card that had not been revealed to her yet. She had heard rumours that he had been with some of the camp whores, and they would often brazenly discuss his skill and advantage in that area, which made her blush. It worried her a little, not only that he perhaps still visited them and his courtship with her was merely platonic, but that if he did come to expect that from her, she would not be able to live up to previous standards.

She knew she was getting ahead of herself, thinking like that, but she was struggling to avoid thinking of Theon and realised that this was probably the beginning of something she had never felt before. She had nothing to compare it to, and dared not ask Talisa in case she told Robb, but as the days and weeks tumbled on, she let Theon Greyjoy chip away at the wall the Lannisters and Gregor Clegane had built around her.

"Tanith!" she heard the soft call of Talisa behind her as she was carrying a sack of potatoes to the camp kitchen. "We're having a meeting in Robb's tent in five minutes, would you let Theon know?"

"Of course." She suddenly felt nervous arriving at his tent, as it was usually him who approached her. She cleared her throat, and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Course," his deep voice mumbled. "I'm decent."

She laughed. She found him vigorously scrubbing dirt off his boots. To her unexpected shock, he did not have a shirt on. She knew he was strong, but when she saw the muscles in his arms contracting and moving as he scrubbed, her heart began to accelerate. She let out a small gasp, and cursed herself for doing so as he seemed to hear her.

"Well, half-decent," he smirked at her. For all he could be gentlemanly and reserved, there was also a side to him that was dangerously flirtatious. "How can I help, m'lady?" He had started calling her that as a joke they shared, as she hated being called it.

"I have come to call you to a meeting in Robb's tent." She announced.

Theon's smile faded, and he looked crestfallen. He cleared his throat awkwardly and stuffed his feet into his boots, and flung his shirt back on, not bothering to tuck it in before he walked straight past her and out of the tent.

"Theon, what is it?" She called after him, but he kept going.

 _Theon_

 _You're a fucking idiot._ Theon trudged away from Robb's tent. Confirming what he already knew, Robb told him that the army was advancing to the Twins. It was now Robb's uncle Edmure who would marry one of the Frey daughters. "We'll camp at Seagard before we get to the Twins, and from there you can set off for Pyke." Theon had waited months for this, and now it was here, he was disappointed. He knew the reason why.

Of course he was nervous to see his father again for the first time in twelve years, but he had conditioned himself to quash those feelings and prioritise why he was really going. Robb was his brother, and he needed the Iron Fleet. He was going to get it.

Try as he might to ignore it, he knew he why he was reluctant to go. _Her_. There was no way he could ask her to come with him, and even less chance she'd want to. They had grown close recently, and Theon tried not to give much away but he revelled in it. He would wait in anticipation for their daily meetings and longed for her company and closeness. Nothing romantic had happened, but Theon was reluctant to push things. He didn't even know if she reciprocated what he was feeling. She was a lady, and she was younger than the whores he'd been with. He knew for a fact she was inexperienced, and he found it endearing yet intimidating.

Now she was eating more and settling into the camp, she was looking not only healthier but prettier. She had looked hollow and skinny when she first arrived, but she now filled out and had a healthy glow that made him feel warm. It was strange. All the women he had come across were either motherly or sisterly to him, like the Starks, or whores. Tanith was someone he could talk to and feel things for, but he also longed to touch and kiss her. He had dared not make such a move – he didn't want to scare her – but he didn't feel like he needed whores anymore. She had gone from being a companion to being beautiful before his eyes, and he never even realised how much he was going to lose until she came into his tent that morning.

He hurried back to his tent and sat there for a while, but felt hot and agitated. He couldn't sit still. He stormed past the flurry of people frantically preparing for tomorrow's travel, and headed straight for the river. He yanked his shirt off, leaned over the bank and splashed his face and neck with handfuls of water. It was freezing, but he didn't care.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Theon didn't turn around. He looked at his muddled reflection in the water below him.

"I thought you would be pleased to be going back."  
"I am."

"You don't seem it," she laughed, crouching down beside him. He watched in quiet awe as she pulled her boots off, hitched up her skirt and dunked her little legs in the water. "What's the matter?"

Theon shrugged. "I just didn't think it would happen. Been put off for so long."

"I know it's been a while," she reached out and squeezed his hand. "But you can do it. Your father will be glad to see you."

Theon looked at her, and wanted to tell her. He wanted to scream what he really felt, if only he completely understood what that was. "Yeah, you're right. I've got a job to do anyway, that's the main thing."

She nodded and smiled. "When do you leave?"

"When we reach Seagard. A few days maybe. Then it's a few more days' sail to Pyke."

"I will miss you."

"You will?" Theon was surprised. She didn't say it in a polite way. She seemed to mean it.

She nodded again. "Don't you know?" With that, she rose and he watched as she wandered off, still barefoot, into the trees.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 _Tanith_

She felt so foolish for storming away from Theon, but she needed for him not to follow her. Her absence would not be noticed for long. She felt hot and tense, and needed some time on her own. Things with Theon had been both overwhelming yet modest, her feelings pent up and taking over her thoughts while also being quashed by the fact that there had been no major declarations or statements to satisfy these thoughts.

She reached a clearing of woodland by accident, but found it to be quite charming. There was a long, sturdy log of fallen tree which she climbed onto and perched, her legs in a basket. She was actually rather high up from the ground, and all she could hear were tweeting birds, woodpigeons cooing and the very faint sound of the river flowing. She reached out in front of her to a branch from an overhead tree that was draped down near her, picked it off and began picking the leaves off.

 _Will I ever see him again?_

The thought made her feel guilty if anything. She wondered the same about her mother, about Warren. About Sandor. He had been her saving grace, her non-literal knight, and she may never see him again either. She knew he felt for her in that way, and although she did not return it, it still brought her comfort to know that someone in this world looked out for her. She did not know with Theon.

 _Why don't you ask him?_

"Don't be silly." Tanith said aloud, and let out a small scoff.

"Who's being silly?"

Tanith was startled by the voice, and looked around to find no one it belonged to. "Who is there?" she called reluctantly.

"Hello," it was King Robb, looking up at her. He smiled and began to climb the log to join her. "Do you mind?"

She shook her head, and he planted himself beside her. "Is everything alright? Theon told me you'd gone a-wander."

"I'm fine, your grace," she said unconvincingly. "I just needed some time."

"That's understandable," he said. "More of us should stop and just sit with some quiet, and think about things."

She looked at him, and he shot her a look that they both knew what it meant. There was a silence, before he said, "I've made some mistakes, Tanith. More than some. And everyone around me knows I have."

"You're a good king," she placed her hand on his arm. "You deserve the success you have had."

"I should have kept my word," he said. "But I chose love."

"You still kept your word, just to Talisa."

He nodded. "You are in a position where you can choose love, Tanith. I hope you know that whatever you do, you have my blessing."

"What do you mean?" she asked. Robb showed her a small smile.

"I am in battle not only with the world and its tyrants, but with my own feelings. You only have the latter. And I'm not saying it isn't shit sometimes," they both laughed. "But you can make this so much easier on yourself. You've been through an ordeal, Tanith. You've lost many people you love. Don't lose another."

"How did you…"

"I have grown up with Theon, and I have never seen him this way before," he said. "Whatever this is, and however you feel, be truthful to yourself because trust me, he feels something for you."

Tanith paused for a moment. At first she felt embarrassed that she and Theon may have brazenly flaunted themselves around the camp, but then Robb was an insightful man. He may see what even she and Theon did not yet see.

"I just, don't know what to do."

Robb nodded. "You can talk to him. It is all you can do." He gave her arm a comforting squeeze, and she felt warm. This time she had here, with the Starks, Talisa, and of course Theon, had begun to reignite her happiness and her trust for people. It was early days yet, but she could begin to recall the feelings she once felt long ago, perhaps even before her father died. Robb headed back to camp, and Tanith remained in the clearing for a little longer, enjoying the sun seeping through the trees and warming her face. Winter was coming, but the heat from the rays gave her hope for a spring in her life.

 _Theon_

Theon took a swig of wine. He was on his third glass, and realised he should probably slow down. It was the last night in camp before they headed for Seagard, and Robb thought they should have a little party. Theon was hoping the atmosphere and the drink would give him the opportunity to talk to Tanith, as he had totally fucked it up earlier.

 _What are you even gonna say?_ He didn't know. He wasn't a knight who could recite eloquent lines of romantic poetry, but he didn't want to downplay what she meant to him. If only he knew exactly what that was…

Robb had set up a long table in the centre of camp, and everyone was sitting, clinking cups together and munching on stew and bread. Even Edmure Tully had put his reservations about marrying the Frey daughter to the back of his mind and was as jovial as the rest of the soldiers.

Theon soon realised that the wine was only making him more nervous, and he put down his glass. As he wiped the residue of the wine from his lips, he scanned his surroundings. She wasn't there.

"Hi."

Theon spun around, almost aghast at her appearance. He had given up on her turning up tonight. In that moment he was suddenly so grateful at her being there, stood in front of him, giving him this opportunity to be honest and real, for once in his life. He could tell her anything.

"Evening," was all he could muster after a few seconds of awkwardness. She nodded and forced a small smile. It was clear she felt uncomfortable too.

"I feel like a fool," she said. "For how I acted earlier."

"Same. I mean, you needn't feel like that. It were my fault, probably." He scoffed.

She ignored his attempt at a joke. "Well, I am sorry anyway. I should not be concerning myself with your travel plans."

She started to walk past him, but Theon's arm jerked and grabbed hers. "No," he said, startling her. "I mean, it isn't _not_ your business. I just…"

"Just what?" The way her eyes poured into his made his insides flare in excitement.

"There's just nothing I can do about it," he said. "I have orders."

"Well what _would_ you do?"

Theon shrugged. "As I say, nothing." He studied her reaction, which to his disappointment, was a sigh and a low chuckle.

"Of course," she said lowly, staring at the ground.

"What…" Theon started, and they were interrupted by the loudening of drunken jeers and merry singing. Theon looked around him, at the soldiers scooping up whores onto their laps, whispering not so quietly things they'd like to do to them as they spill beer on their dresses. He turned back to face Tanith, who if anything looked even more angelic next to them. She was what he wanted, not any of this.

"I am going to retire now, I think," she said. "Goodnight."

"Wait," he took her arm again. "Can't you stay for a little longer? For a drink?"

She released herself from his grip violently, and stood back to look at him, as if judging him. "What do you want from me, Theon? We have all these little talks and you never really say anything."

"What does that mean?"

"You make such a fuss about seeing me and being around me, yet you offer no suggestion to how you might feel about potentially never seeing me again?"

Theon sensed her agitation, and it fuelled anger within him. He was partly embarrassed that she, a young lady, had the balls to say what he didn't, and he was partly enthralled by this fiery side of her he had never seen before.

"Well, I just didn't… look, I don't know! You're hard to read sometimes."

" _I'm_ hard to read? Well, that's awfully rich!" She began to storm off again, and Theon decided this time he would follow her.

"You know what!" he shouted. "I felt terrible for the way I spoke about you way back when you got here, and I wanted to be courteous, which is something I've never done!"

She turned to face him, and scoffed in his face. "Clearly!" she spat.

Theon's blood boiled. He could feel his face turning red. Who did she think she was? He _had_ tried to be a gentleman, especially as he didn't know how she felt about him.

"Fool me for thinking you were a poor little girl who'd been through the seven hells and didn't want to scare you!"

"So you pitied me, is that it?" Theon could see fire in her eyes, flaming red and amber contrasting with cool sea green. It was both terrifying and enchanting.

"No, that's… look, you're not giving me a chance to explain!"

"Theon, we have had all the time here just waiting for an absolution, in which you could turn to me and say anything!"

"Wait-"

"To think I preferred this place to King's Landing!" she jeered. "At least I had one friend there, which is one more than I have he-"

"Will you shut up and listen to this," Theon declared, thrusting himself toward her and clasping his hands firmly over her shoulders. Their bodies clashed into one another. His lips were on hers. Their noses touched. Her hair tickled his cheek. Her lips felt tense and tight at first, but they softened and let his cushion them. Theon wrapped his arms around her tightly and pulled her close to him as they sunk into a long, soft and heavenly kiss.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 _Tanith_

The flurry of thoughts, angry and confused, whirring around Tanith's mind dissipated as soon as she felt his lips touching hers. She was initially frozen, unable to respond to what was happening. Was he really kissing her? Was this a dream her 12-year-old self would awake from back in Folder Castle?

No. Theon Greyjoy was real. And he was kissing her.

Tanith's legs buckled as she fell into the kiss, and on cue Theon grabbed her and held her up so she would not fall. Her stomach leapt, and her heart danced furiously as she lightly rested her hands on his chest. She did not know what to do, where to hold onto him. The kiss was at first soft, slow and rhythmic with one another's movements, until his hands moved to the small of her back and held a protective grip on her as the kiss became more rough and passionate. She was surprised when she felt the warm wetness of his tongue massaging hers, but she loved it and reciprocated. Theon's lips moved away from hers. He looked deep into her eyes, and Tanith let out a small gasp. This was the most serious she had ever seen him, and it fascinated her.

"I wanted to do that for a long time."

She nodded, trying to disguise her breathlessness. "I could tell."

Theon smirked. "I know, I went in didn't I?"

"I am not complaining," she said. "Guess that's what happens when things build up."

"Things?"

"Yes, well. Thoughts. Feelings." She cringed inside at the mention of that word. She needn't get ahead of herself – after all, Theon was a young man, and it could just be momentary lust mixed with a few drinks.

Theon smiled at her, and took her hand in his. He stroked her palm with his thumb, tracing the lines softly and tucking a stray strand of her hair away from her face with his other hand.

"Theon! Come an' have a drink!" the drunken roars of some nearby soldiers interrupted their perfect reverie. Theon tried to ignore them, but they came closer and shouted louder.

"Shit," he quipped, letting go of Tanith and taking a step back. Tanith must've looked disappointed, because a look of worry shot across his face with the flickers of the nearby firelight in the dark night. "Sorry, not what I meant. Just don't want that lot teasing. Wish they would fuck off."

"It's alright," Tanith said. She agreed with him, for once. The last thing she needed was more attention and gossip swirling around her. "I should retire. I'll see you in the morning."

"Let's talk after we make camp tomorrow night. Away from everyone."

She nodded, and Theon shot her one last grin before trudging off to join the men, who were clinking tankards, singing and swearing loudly. As she headed to her tent, she watched as he feigned laughter at their jokes, ignored a whore who was flirting with him and offering him more beer, and looked back at her.

The journey began early, much to the disdain of the majority of the camp who had enjoyed a little too much merriment the night before. Tanith had enjoyed last night too, but for different reasons.

She sat with Talisa in a wagon with the medical supplies, while Theon rode his horse with Robb, Catelyn and the Tullys up front. She would occasionally turn to look for her, but failed to see her crouched behind all the equipment so far back in the procession. Tanith managed to spot him every time, and it made something in her burn to know she was in his thoughts.

"You seem very sprightly today," Talisa remarked, probably noticing her smiling constantly. "Something you want to tell me?"

Tanith blushed. "Just excited for a change of scene, that's all."

"Hmm, I've noticed Theon is just as excited for this… change of scene, too."

Tanith looked at her. "I'm sure I do not know what you mean," she tried to say firmly, but her thoughts intercepted her facial expression and she began to smile uncontrollably.

Talisa's eyes lit up. "Did something happen with you two?"

Realising her friend was not going to give up, Tanith sighed, leaned towards Talisa and whispered. "We kissed." Talisa's dark eyes twinkled with excitement.

"You must tell all!" Tanith shook her head shyly.

"You must hold your tongue," Tanith hissed. "The last thing I want is for everyone to know and be the talk of the camp."

"You can tell me anything," Talisa said, resting a hand on her shoulder. They were both jolted by the wagon riding over a hole in the road. "Besides, we've got a long journey ahead."

The ladies talked in whispers about Tanith's budding friendship with Theon, how they bickered and infuriated each other but that there was something sizzling between them that Tanith felt was about to boil over at any moment.

"I feel like such a foolish girl," she sighed. "I am having all these… feelings. I have little in the way of experience so I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling or doing. Or even if Theon feels the same."

"Robb seems to think he does," Talisa said. "I do not know Theon very well, but Robb has grown up with him. He has told me he has never seen him like this with anyone."

Tanith nodded. "Yes, he did tell me that, that day Theon and I quarrelled."

"Which time?" Talisa asked, smirking, and they erupted into laughter before correcting themselves as a couple of soldiers looked their way.

"Oh, I don't know, Talisa, he can irritate me as much as he excites me. What if I am getting myself so bothered over something that may not work?"

"I cannot pretend to be the fountain of experience in this area either Tanith," she said. "But all I can say is that Robb and I tried to ignore our feelings for each other, but in the end it was futile. You can try and blot out that voice in your head, but what is in your heart may take over."

Tanith smiled. She admired Talisa and Robb's relationship, and wanted something like it for herself one day. And despite her experience with the Mountain, she was beginning to desire a man's touch. She was eighteen years old, not a child. She was having _those_ feelings too.

As if she could read her mind, Talisa spoke again. "An important question to ask yourself is: do you _want_ him?" Tanith studied her expression, and they understood what they meant without saying it. They were ladies after all… to a point.

"Oh, I…. well, I am no fool. I have heard the rumours of him." Tanith tried to say with a straight face before the two of them fell into another fit of giggles. "But that's what also worries me."

"You think he won't be impressed?"

Tanith nodded. She liked that Talisa could just get to the point without skirting around the issue. She had no one else to talk with about things like that, and while these thoughts were certainly making their home in her mind more comfortably these days, she was still shy when it came to discussing them casually.

"You are not a whore, Tanith, so Theon does not expect you have had the experience of one," she said. "If you progress, he will know what to expect."

"I think I still would want to wait," Tanith replied. "Until I am married. That is why I am confused about Theon. I do not want to continue a possible liaison with him and give him hope for something, if he is not to be my husband."

"Then just lay your cards on the table," Talisa said. "That way, you'll know his intentions from his reaction. But who says you have to rush?"

That was true. Tanith recalled Theon's conversation with her about trying to be a gentleman and respect her boundaries. It ended up making her more confused about how he felt for her, but he still thought to act reservedly. But at the same time, time was an issue. They would be arriving at Seagard any day, and Theon would go his way to Pyke, while she would continue with the army. She may never see him again, and all would be a waste. At least if there was a promise made, she could wait for him wherever their paths took them. But if things were left unsaid, she could be waiting for something that would never come.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 _Tanith_

The clouds loomed over the camp ominously, creating a swirl of dark grey and black. Tanith missed the feeling of the sun on her skin, but it was not worth being in King's Landing for.

She had not spoken to Theon since their kiss a few nights before, as their respective duties had taken precedence during the ongoing journey to Seagard. While he spent his nights planning with Robb and hunting in the woods, she remained at the medical tent and kitchen. She did not mind: she liked having a purpose, even if that was just to look after medical supplies, equipment, change dressings, help serve meals and clean dishes. She had gotten over her fear of blood, managing to clean and dress now-healing wounds on the Stark soldiers without a grimace. A few weeks ago, she would have fainted at the mere sight of a deep cut.

"How long have I been with you?" she asked Talisa as they tended to some cuts on one of the Stark soldiers. They had been tending to him for some time now. His wounds were taking a while to heal, the haggard scars creating zigzags down his left leg. He would recover though, Talisa had said.

"Not long enough." The soldier interrupted. His name was Maddox. He was a few years older than Tanith, but looked much younger with his freckled cheeks, cheeky grin and spiralling red curls of hair.

"Oh stop flirting, you've to take it easy," Talisa warned him playfully. "I would say about two months, my lady, although I must agree with our friend here that it has not felt as long."

True enough, it did not feel as long. Tanith was in the Red Keep for less time, yet that felt like an entire saga of her life. Although whenever she thought of it, she shivered as if she were recalling a past life. Locking those memories away in a box in her mind made her feel better and that she was settled here, with the Stark army, with Talisa, with…

"I hope it will continue," Maddox winked at Tanith, hauling her out of her thoughts. "I wouldn't enjoy myself as much without you here."

Tanith blushed. Maddox let out a hearty laugh. She admired his energy despite the state of his leg. "I always make you do that."

"What?"

"You've gone red, milady," he smirked. "Almost as red as m'hair!"

"You flatter me more than I deserve," she said shyly, returning her focus to his dressing. "Now I hope you are resting this leg like you are supposed to."

"Rest is for the old, I feel fine!" he jeered in his unmistakable Northern accent. When he saw Tanith's expression, he held his hands up in surrender. "Only joking, milady, I know I've to rest it good."

"See that you do," Tanith playfully swatted his arm with a spare bandage. "I hear you are quite the swordsman. King Robb needs you back on your feet."

"No problem," Maddox grinned, and hauled himself to his feet to the surprise of both the ladies. "See, I'm fi-woah, wooah!" Tanith let out a squeal, louder than she intended to, as Maddox pretended to lose his balance and fall into her. She grabbed his arms and they fell into a hug, and she laughed as he quickly returned to his seat.  
It was good to laugh at something. It was good to be in the company of people who made her feel at ease. She felt silly thinking it, as she was providing medical aid to a soldier in an army camp, but she sometimes forgot there was a war on.

"I think I shall retire now," Talisa announced, packing away the rest of the supplies. "I suggest you two do the same, you must be exhausted after all this carry on! Goodnight."

Tanith, still laughing, bid her friend goodnight, and let out a small yawn. "It is late, I think Talisa is right."

"Pardon me, milady," Maddox said firmly. It was the first time Tanith had seen him with a straight face. "I know it's not my place, and a fine lady like you could do much better, but I were wonderin' if there were anyone special in your life."

"Is that a question?" Tanith asked coyly.

Maddox smiled. "I suppose so. Because if there is, I wouldn't want to intrude any further."

"You are not intruding," Tanith said, resting her hand tentatively on his forearm. "I enjoy talking to you. But I feel I must admit that I do have another in my thoughts."

"That's a weird way of saying you've got a betrothed!" Maddox laughed, shaking the obvious disappointment from his face.

Tanith smiled, feeling slight relief that Maddox would accept the rejection without anger, but she felt a pang of something bad in her stomach. He had a point. She was not betrothed to anyone. She did not even know what Theon felt for her, other than a fleeting kiss that had not been capitalised on since. Where was he now? Everyone around them was laughing, talking and winding down for the evening. If he wanted to see her, he would have come looking for her. Was she pinning her hopes on someone who did not have _any_ intentions, let alone honourable ones?

"You are right," she sighed. "Not a promise has been made, out loud at least, but there is someone else."

Maddox held his hands up, shaking his head. "Say no more, milady. He is a lucky gentleman, and I hope he knows that!" With that he kissed her hand, rose to his one good foot, bid her goodnight and hobbled off to his tent. Tanith sighed, feeling rotten at the rejection of a genuinely lovely man. But a flicker of excitement engorged her stomach. Perhaps it took this conversation with Maddox for her to realise that whatever she was to him, Theon Greyjoy was something to _her_.

Was it a bad idea to go and find him? Talisa had suggested she lay her cards on the table, and Robb had said Theon felt something for her he had not felt for another. Maybe he was pacing in his tent, deliberating how to approach Tanith? Maybe this once, she had to make the first move, so he would know how she felt.

She smoothed her dress, tucked a stray curl behind her ear and rose to her feet, gazing up briefly at how black the sky had turned. She looked back down to find him standing there, about ten, perhaps fifteen feet away. He was in his trousers and just an undershirt, unbuttoned to tease the slightest reveal of his chest, which she had longed to see again after that day he invited her into his tent. Even in the dark night, a nearby fire meant she could make out the sweat beads draped across his collar bone. Something in her ached.

"Theon."

As she said his name aloud, it echoed in her own ears as if she had screamed it across the Seven Kingdoms. He said nothing, and at first she thought him shy. She began to speak again, but looked at his face more closely. Theon Greyjoy was many things, but shy was not one of them. As the silence continued, he looked… angry.

"Don't mind me." He said viciously, before turning away and storming into the night.

 _Theon_

 _As if I needed any more fucking convincing that she regrets that kiss_ , Theon thought. He knew what he saw. Her laughing her head off with that ginger prick. Touching his arm, hugging him, all over him. He was embarrassed for her. It made him sick.

Tears blinded him as he tried to see his way through the dark night. He could hear her calling, only faintly, but he kept going. His ego couldn't take her explaining that she didn't want him, that the kiss was a mistake. All of it was a mistake.

He picked up his pace, and eventually he was running into the woods. The faint chatter and eerie glow of the campfires faded into nothing, and he was in total darkness. He shoved branches out of his way, muttering and cursing under his breath as he pushed through the woods. Perhaps if he kept going, he would reach the sea and just swim to Pyke.

Why stop there? He could go west of Westeros. Away from all of it. He was getting sick of it. Always an outsider. Not quite a Greyjoy, never a Stark. The one thing silencing these angry thoughts that had been clambering around his head for the last twenty-five years in the last few weeks was her. He would have gone through it all, the rigmarole of going to Pyke and getting his father's army for Robb and fighting the stupid fucking campaigns for him. The sooner he did all of that, the sooner he would be back to her.

He felt like a fool. In these weeks he had been calmer and kinder. He hadn't risen late in the day, hungover and full of dread with a naked whore wrapped around him. He woke with a drive to do his duty and to be someone she would want. He would wake early, but daydream of her and imagine her in his bed. At first he just wanted to fuck her, and he would try to imagine it. Of course he still wanted to fuck her, but not just like a cheap whore. He wanted to touch her and feel her. He wanted to lie next to her. He wanted to please her. He wanted to love her.

But none of that was going to happen, and although Theon knew all along, he let himself be seduced by her beauty. Why did she have to be so beautiful? She had such an angelic face, with those green eyes, her dimples and her smile. And then there was her body, which Theon wished he could see, but he knew it would be cracking.

He had slowed, realising he had no idea where he was. The clouds had passed and the moon shone through a clearing, providing him with the only light he would find in these woods. He moved over to the clearing and sat by a log, panting and out of breath. He gazed up at the moon, and wiped another tear from his cheek.

"Theon!"

 _Fuck, how did she find me?_

"Theon, where are you?"

It was definitely her. He could not see her, but he could make out a tiny dot of an amber light nearing him. Her voice grew louder too. Eventually he saw her, wading through the jutting branches and into the clearing. Her dress was covered in mud at the bottom, and her hair stuck to her forehead, glistened with sweat. Her chest bounded up and down as she regained her breathing. She was holding a lantern, and held it in front of her as she approached him.

"Go back to camp, Tanith."

"No." Theon was slightly impressed at how indignant she sounded. "I want to know what happened back there." She rested against the log next to him and reached out her hand to touch his shoulder, but Theon got there first and stood up straight, walking away from her.

"I saw you."

"You saw me?"

"Yeah I saw you!" he shouted, turning to face her. Their faces were inches from each other. He was about five inches taller than her, and he could see the moon glint in her eyes as she looked up at him. "With that prick! Laughing and joking for all to see."

"Who, Maddox?"

"I don't give a fuck what his name is."

"Theon, please! All I was doing was cleaning his leg wound."

"Yeah right." Theon barked, turning away from her again. He didn't want to see her pleading. "You don't laugh like that with a man unless it means something."

"That is not true! He may have said that he thought highly of me, but I made it clear to him that I…" she trailed off, and Theon looked around at her. Tears were welling in her eyes, but they had not fallen yet.

"You made it clear that what?" he demanded. She shook her head, and began crying. "Nah, don't start that now!" he grabbed her arms and shook her. "What did you say?!"

"Stop it, STOP!" she pushed him away with all her might, and as he was not expecting it he stumbled back a bit. She did too, and dropped the lantern.

"Fuck's sake." Theon stomped out the light before it caught onto the grass below them. It was much darker now, and they could only see each other's silhouettes in the moonlight. Theon could still hear her crying though.

They both stood, a few feet apart, the night air being filled only with the flowing water of a nearby burn and her quiet sobs. Theon approached her awkwardly from behind, gingerly placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for grabbing you like that," he muttered. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't." She wiped her face with her sleeve and turned to face him. "Not like that anyway."

"I just… I saw what I saw."

"You were wrong, Theon," she said, her voice still wobbling a little from her crying. "I told Maddox I did not feel that way."

"Really?"

She said nothing, but Theon saw her silhouette nod. He knew she was looking right at him, and the intensity of her stare made him burn, even in the pitch dark.

"Well," he coughed. "I'm glad."

"You are?"

He cleared his throat. He wanted to kick himself for getting the wrong idea. He was no good at this, and he felt not good enough for her. But there was a war on, and she showed up in his life on a little rowboat out of nowhere. If there was anything Theon had learned lately it was that anything could happen. She was standing before him now in the middle of a dark forest, and they felt like the only two people in the world. Before they returned to whatever awaited them, tonight and for the rest of their lives, he had to say it.

"I don't want you to be with anyone else." He reached out his hand and found her cheek, brushing it with his fingers. He could feel the corner of her mouth rising. He used the other hand to grab her waist and pull her close to him. She did not resist as he buried his face in her hair.

"I want you to be with me." He whispered into the night.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

 _Tanith_

"I could stay like this forever."

Tanith smiled at Theon's words and tilted her head, which was tucked under his chin as she rested her weight against him. In the cold night she could feel the heat of his palms as he gripped her protectively, his big arms wrapped around her petite frame as they stood alone in the forest.

She sighed into his chest. She felt as if she were dreaming. Since Theon Greyjoy pulled her out of that rowboat, she felt her life unravelling. Some days it felt like a bad thing, if her mind lingered too long on her family, or if she saw a passer-by on their travels look at her a little too long and wondered if they were a Lannister soldier looking for her and recognised her. She knew it was far-fetched, but it would take a long time for the fear and paranoia instilled in her during her time in the capital to leave her. She wondered what had become of her story. When she arrived at Riverrun, the camp had already heard of the Mountain's runaway bride. Had it reached every corner of Westeros? Could she make a home somewhere and slip under the radar? Was Cersei Lannister over it, or was there a price for her head?

But some days the unravelling felt good, like the bandages she had wrapped herself in while floating endlessly on that rowboat were coming undone. Her true self felt exposed again, but as if she was cooled down in stifling heat. Things were changing. War was unpredictable, and things would likely never be the same again. But the more Tanith thought about her past and her new life, she asked herself a question she probably already knew the answer to: did she want to go back?

The last thing she expected to do was to fall for someone, if that's what this was with Theon. After weeks of back and forth, they had tried and often failed to understand one another, yet Tanith still felt an unexplainable, exhilarating magnetisation with him. But Theon had told her he wanted to be with her. She had not known him long, but she surmised that this was not something he said to many girls.

She wondered what would happen next. Seagard was a day or so away, and he would be going to Pyke. Panic shot through Tanith's gut and tightened her chest. She realised just how much time they had wasted. Not a lot of time in the grand scheme of life, but thanks to ever-changing war, they had hours left together.

"We should go back." Theon interrupted her thoughts. She wriggled herself loose and looked at him, his blue eyes glinting in the moonlight which illuminated their reverie in a cloudless sky. He smiled attentively at her, stroking her arms to warm her, and this was the most he had revealed his soft side to her. He was being vulnerable, and it made her burn with pleasure.

"Yes, we should." Tanith decided she should speak after such a silence. "Do you really mean it, Theon?"

"What?" He smirked. She elbowed him gently. "Yes I do. I know I joke a lot, but I am serious. In fact," he took her hand in his and used the other to wrap a loose strand of her wild auburn mane around his forefinger. "I want you to come with me. I don't want to leave you."

Tanith tried to control the expression on her face, still aware that it was early days and not wanting to reveal too much. But Theon let out a low chuckle which suggested he anticipated her reaction of excitement.

"Theon," she gasped. She did not mean to sound so taken aback. "Since when did you become so bold? Weeks of no straight answers and now this." They laughed together, and he linked his arm in hers as they headed back the way they both came what now seemed like hours ago.

"Well I know what I want now. The question is, what do you want?"

Tanith cleared. "Well, I was never too thrilled about going to the Twins."

"So you'll come with me?" Theon halted, the crunching of the grass under his boots stopping, and turned to face her.

She nodded. "Yes I will. Of course I will."

Without warning Theon grabbed her arms, hauled her up and swung her round. Tanith let out a yelp, before he pulled her in close and planted a sweet kiss on her lips. She never realised how dominating he could be, rough without hurting her. It was exhilarating, and she found herself thinking about how else he could be with her…

"Let's go back now." She took his arm and began leading them through the trees.  
"Okay, it is nearly daylight I suppo- hey! Why the rush?" Theon chuckled as Tanith now took control, hauling him along with her as she tried to look out for the faint firelight of the camp.

Tanith said nothing, instead stopping sharply in her tracks. She faced Theon, who she could tell looked puzzled, almost worried in the darkness. She walked toward him, her front meeting his, and pushed him back into a tree. He cringed a little as his head hit the bark, but a current of excitement shot through his eyes as she grabbed his face with her hands and began kissing him. She had never imagined she would be so bold, but it was all she could do not to tear the clothes from his hot, quivering body.

 _Theon_

Theon's heart was pounding so loudly he was surprised if Tanith could not feel it through her own chest, which was pressed earnestly against his as they collided in a kiss. _Fuck me_ , he thought. _She does surprise me_.

He had never thought of Tanith Folder in this way before. Well, obviously he had thought of kissing and touching her, but she was a lady. He hadn't imagined she would be this… passionate. She was running her hands through his hair and lightly clawing the back of his neck with her nails. Her tongue slid in and out of his mouth, massaging his every so often and making his knees buckle and melt. He let out a soft groan, and she giggled into his mouth making her even more irresistible. The last thing he wanted to do was stop this kiss, but he did want to take things into his tent.

"Come on." He broke the euphoria between them and pulled her through what felt like five hundred more trees.

They stumbled through the dark camp, and Theon thanked the gods that dawn had not yet broken. They could possibly have an hour to themselves. He wasn't sure how far things would go with her, and he suddenly worried that she would feel pressured.

"Look, we don't have to do anything you don't want to." He told her as they reached his tent. "Your first time should be special."

"I know, and I do want it to be." She told him, sitting on his bed and gazing up at him. His tent was still dimly light with what was left of the candles, and the flickering light danced on her face, illuminating her green eyes. Theon could get drunk on those eyes. He would easily take her right now.

Theon sat beside her, pushed some of her hair away and began planting soft kisses all over her neck and collarbone. She sighed into his ear and he could feel himself getting hard.

"We will find the right moment." He said. She nodded, her eyes still closed and enjoying his rough hands tenderly stroking her neck and cheek. He kissed her again, and she bit his lip.

"Theon." She groaned into his mouth. He felt like he was on fire.

"Yes?"

"I don't want to go, but I must."

Theon nodded. "Yes, you must. I will tell Robb first thing that you're coming with me."

She smiled at him. "I cannot wait."

They kissed one last time that night, and as he crashed onto his bed, Theon dreamt about how many more times he would be able to kiss Lady Tanith Folder.

 _Tanith_

"I am so happy for you, but so sad we will be apart." Tanith and Talisa embraced for the hundredth time that afternoon since Theon had broken the news to her and Robb that Tanith would join him in Pyke. The camp had reached Seagard in a matter of hours, and Tanith thought to herself that her desire to reach the sea and step on board a ship hand-in-hand with Theon Greyjoy was the real reason they had made such good time.

"I will miss you so much Talisa," Tanith told her friend. "You have been so dear to me, and I cannot thank you enough for everything you have done." Leaving Talisa behind was Tanith's only reservation about going to Pyke, but she knew that it had to be done. And Robb knew more than anyone about making a big decision for someone you love.

"Thank you, your Grace," Tanith turned to the curly-haired king, who looked genuinely sad to see them go. "For taking me in at the camp and giving me new life. I am forever in your debt."

"Think nothing of debt," Robb said. "I will only take credit for the advice I gave you that day at the logs." They exchanged a smile.

"You certainly should." She replied. "That is a reason to be thankful." Tanith embraced him, before turning to Talisa once more.

"Please write." Talisa whispered into her ear.

"Of course I will." Tanith replied. "And I want to hear from you too. Especially when he or she arrives."

Talisa broke the embrace to stare at Tanith, wide-eyed. "How-"

"I just had a feeling." Tanith said quietly, sneaking a glance at Robb and Theon, who were preoccupied in an animated goodbye. "But do not worry, I will keep it to myself as long as you like."

Talisa squeezed her shoulder affectionately, and the women hugged yet again. Tanith released Talisa, and turned to find Theon beaming at her.

"Ready?"

She returned his smile, and gestured one last wave goodbye to her friends. Theon stepped onto the gangway and held his hand out to her. She gazed at him in fascination for a few moments, standing with the sails flapping in the harsh wind above their heads, the cawing of gulls dulled by her dream-like state whenever she began staring at him. The sun peaked through a cloud overhead, shining down on the fair flicks of Theon's hair. Then she remembered to breathe as took his hand. With the touch of his hand she was pulled onto the gangway, and into his life. He stood behind her as the ship pulled out, and wrapped his arms around her as they waved goodbye to Robb and Talisa as their figures grew smaller. She was ready. She was ready for whatever was coming, because she was facing it with him.


End file.
